'Ll  B HARY 

OF  THE 

U N I VERS  ITY 
Of  ILLINOIS 

From  the  Library  of 
Arthur  Hill  Daniels 
Professor  of  Philosophy 
Acting  President  1933/34 
Presented  by  Mrs.  Daniels 


c 


CARLYLE'S  CHOICE  WORKS 

I |-/  I 


SARTOR  RESARTUS 

THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF 

HERR  TEUFELSDROCKH 


BY 

THOMAS  CARLYLE 


BOSTON 

ESTES  AND  LAURIAT 
PUBLISHERS 


C\°U 


I II  II 


4 

<r*> 


CONTENTS. 

SARTOR  RESARTUS. 
Book  I. 


Chapter 

I.  Preliminary 

II.  Editorial  Difficulties  . . 

III.  Reminiscences 

IY.  Characteristics  . . • . . 
Y.  The  World  in  Clothes 

YI.  Aprons 

VII.  Miscellaneous-Historical  . 
The  World  out  of  Clothes 


Page 

3 

7 

11 

22 

27 

33 

35 

39 


VIII. 

© 

m IX.  Adamitism 44 

4 

(jJ  X.  Pure  Reason 48 

Q 

^ XI.  Prospective 53 

W ' 


I. 

Book  II. 

Genesis 

o 

n. 

Idyllic  

CD 

i — 

HI. 

Pedagogy  

IY. 

Getting  under  Way 

Y. 

Romance  

fe 

£ 

YI. 

Sorrows  of  Teufelsdrockh 

....  113 

iv  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

VII.  The  Everlasting  No 122 

VIII.  Centre  op  Indipperence . 129 

IX.  The  Everlasting  Yea 139 

X.  Pause 149 

Book  III. 

I.  Incident  in  Modern  History 157 

1IV  Church-Clothes 

III.  Symbols  165 

IV.  Helot  age 171 

V.  Phcenix I75 

VI.  Old  Clothes 180 

VII.  Organic  Filaments 184 

VIII.  Natural-Supernaturalism 192 

IX.  Circumspective 202 

X.  The  Dandiacal  Body 205 

XI.  Tailors 217 

XII.  Farewell 220 

pen  tifx. 

TESTIMONIES  OF  AUTHORS. 

I.  Highest  Class,  Bookseller’s  Taster 220 

II.  Critic  op  the  Sun 227 

III.  North- American  Reviewer 227 

IV.  New  England  Editors 230 


SARTOR  RESARTUS: 


THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF 

HERR  TEUFELSDROCKH 

In  Three  Books. 


[1831.] 


70L.  I. 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


BOOK  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PRELIMINARY. 

Considering  our  present  advanced  state  of  culture,  and  how 
the  Torch  of  Science  has  now  been  brandished  and  borne 
about,  with  niore  or  less  effect,  for  five  thousand  years  and  up- 
wards ; how,  in  these  times  especially,  not  only  the  Torch  still 
burns,  and  perhaps  more  fiercely  than  ever,  but  innumerable 
Rushlights,  and  Sulphur-matches,  kindled  thereat,  are  also 
glancing  in  every  direction,  so  that  not  the  smallest  cranny 
or  dog-hole  in  Nature  or  Art  can  remain  unilluminated,  — it 
might  strike  the  reflective  mind  with  some  surprise  that  hith- 
erto little  or  nothing  of  a fundamental  character,  whether  in 
the  way  of  Philosophy  or  History,  has  been  written  on  the 
subject  of  Clothes. 

Our  Theory  of  Gravitation  is  as  good  as  perfect : Lagrange, 
it  is  well  known,  has  proved  that  the  Planetary  System,  on  this 
scheme,  will  endure  forever ; Laplace,  still  more  cunningly,  even 
guesses  that  it  could  not  have  been  made  on  any  other  scheme. 
Whereby,  at  least,  our  nautical  Logbooks  can  be  better  kept ; 
and  water-transport  of  all  kinds  has  grown  more  commodious. 
Of  Geology  and  Geognosy  we  know  enough : what  with  the  la- 
bors of  our  Werners  and  Huttons,  what  with  the  ardent  genius 
of  their  disciples,  it  has  come  about  that  now,  to  many  a Royal 


4 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  1. 


Society,  the  Creation  of  a World  is  little  more  mysterious  than 
the  cooking  of  a dumpling;  concerning  which  last,  indeed, 
there  have  been  minds  to  whom  the  question,  How  the  apples 
were  got  in,  presented  difficulties.  Why  mention  our  disquisi- 
tions on  the  Social  Contract,  on  the  Standard  of  Taste,  on  the 
Migrations  of  the  Herring  ? Then,  have  we  not  a Doctrine 
of  Rent,  a Theory  of  Value ; Philosophies  of  Language,  of  His- 
tory, of  Pottery,  of  Apparitions,  of  Intoxicating  Liquors  ? 
Man’s  whole  life  and  environment  have  been  laid  open  and 
elucidated ; scarcely  a fragment  or  fibre  of  his  Soul,  Body,  and 
Possessions,  but  has  been  probed,  dissected,  distilled,  desic- 
cated, and  scientifically  decomposed : our  spiritual  Faculties,  of 
which  it  appears  there  are  not  a few,  have  their  Stewarts, 
Cousins,  Royer  Collards : every  cellular,  vascular,  muscular 
Tissue  glories  in  its  Lawrences,  Majendies,  Bichats. 

How,  then,  comes  it,  may  the  reflective  mind  repeat,  that 
the  grand  Tissue  of  all  Tissues,  the  only  real  Tissue,  should 
have  been  quite  overlooked  by  Science,  — the  vestural  Tissue, 
namely,  of  woollen  or  other  cloth ; which  Man’s  Soul  wears  as 
its  outmost  wrappage  and  overall;  wherein  his  whole  other 
Tissues  are  included  and  screened,  his  whole  Faculties  work, 
his  whole  Self  lives,  moves,  and  has  its  being  ? For  if,  now  and 
then,  some  straggling  broken-winged  thinker  has  cast  an  owl’s- 
glance  into  this  obscure  region,  the  most  have  soared  over  it 
altogether  heedless ; regarding  Clothes  as  a property,  not  an 
accident,  as  quite  natural  and  spontaneous,  like  the  leaves  of 
trees,  like  the  plumage  of  birds.  In  all  speculations  they  have 
tacitly  figured  man  as  a Clothed  Animal ; whereas  he  is  by 
nature  a Naked  Animal ; and  only  in  certain  circumstances, 
by  purpose  and  device,  masks  himself  in  Clothes.  Shakes- 
peare says,  we  are  creatures  that  look  before  and  after : the 
more  surprising  that  we  do  not  look  round  a little,  and  see 
what  is  passing  under  our  very  eyes. 

But  here,  as  in  so  many  other  cases,  Germany,  learned,  in- 
defatigable, deep-thinking  Germany  comes  to  our  aid.  It  is, 
after  all,  a blessing  that,  in  these  revolutionary  times,  there 
should  be  one  country  where  abstract  Thought  can  still  take 
shelter ; that  while  the  din  and  frenzy  of  Catholic  Emancipa- 


Chap  I. 


PRELIMINARY. 


5 


tions,  and  Rotten  Boroughs,  and  Revolts  of  Paris,  deafen 
every  French  and  every  English  ear,  the  German  can  stand 
peaceful  on  his  scientific  watch-tower;  and,  to  the  raging, 
struggling  multitude  here  and  elsewhere,  solemnly,  from  hour 
to  hour,  with  preparatory  blast  of  cow-horn,  emit  his  Horet  ihr 
Herren  und  lasset’s  Euch  sagen ; in  other  words,  tell  the  Uni- 
verse, which  so  often  forgets  that  fact,  what  o’clock  it  really 
is.  Not  unfrequently  the  Germans  have  been  blamed  for  an 
unprofitable  diligence ; as  if  they  struck  into  devious  courses, 
where  nothing  was  to  be  had  but  the  toil  of  a rough  journey ; 
as  if,  forsaking  the  gold-mines  of  finance  and  that  political 
slaughter  of  fat  oxen  whereby  a man  himself  grows  fat,  they 
were  apt  to  run  goose-hunting  into  regions  of  bilberries  and 
crowberries,  and  be  swallowed  up  at  last  in  remote  peat-bogs. 
Of  that  unwise  science,  which,  as  our  Humorist  expresses  it, 

“ By  geometric  scale 
Doth  take  the  size  of  pots  of  ale ; ” 

still  more,  of  that  altogether  misdirected  industry,  which  is 
seen  vigorously  thrashing  mere  straw,  there  can  nothing  defen- 
sive be  said.  In  so  far  as  the  Germans  are  chargeable  with 
such,  let  them  take  the  consequence.  Nevertheless  be  it 
remarked,  that  even  a Russian  steppe  has  tumuli  and  gold 
ornaments ; also  many  a scene  that  looks  desert  and  rock-bound 
from  the  distance,  will  unfold  itself,  when  visited,  into  rare 
valleys.  Nay,  in  any  case,  would  Criticism  erect  not  only 
finger-posts  and  turnpikes,  but  spiked  gates  and  impassable  bar- 
riers, for  the  mind  of  man  ? It  is  written,  “ Many  shall  run 
to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased.”  ♦■Surely  the 
plain  rule  is,  Let  each  considerate  person  have  his  way,  and 
see  what  it  will  lead  to.  For  not  this  man  and  that  man,  but1 
all  men  make  up  mankind,  and  their  united  tasks  the  task  of 
mankind.  How  often  have  we  seen  some  such  adventurous, 
and  perhaps  much-censured  wanderer  light  on  some  out-lying, 
neglected,  yet  vitally  momentous  province ; the  hidden  trea- 
sures of  which  he  first  discovered,  and  kept  proclaiming  till 
the  general  eye  and  effort  were  directed  thither,  and  the  con- 
quest was  completed;  — thereby,  in  these  his  seemingly  so 


6 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


aimless  rambles,  planting  new  standards,  founding  new  habi- 
table colonies,  in  the  immeasurable  circumambient  realm  of 
Nothingness  and  Night ! Wise  man  was  he  who  counselled 
that  Speculation  should  have  free  course,  and  look  fearlessly 
towards  all  the  thirty-two  points  of  the  compass,  whither- 
soever and  howsoever  it  listed. 

Perhaps  it  is  proof  of  the  stunted  condition  in  which  pure 
Science,  especially  pure  moral  Science,  languishes  among  us 
English;  and  how  our  mercantile  greatness,  and  invaluable 
Constitution,  impressing  a political  or  other  immediately  prac- 
tical tendency  on  all  English  culture  and  endeavor,  cramps 
the  free  flight  of  Thought,  — that  this,  not  Philosophy  of 
Clothes,  but  recognition  even  that  we  have  no  such  Philoso 
phy,  stands  here  for  the  first  time  published  in  our  language. 
What  English  intellect  could  have  chosen  such  a topic,  or  by 
chance  stumbled  on  it  ? But  for  that  same  unshackled,  and 
even  sequestered  condition  of  the  German  Learned,  which  per- 
mits and  induces  them  to  fish  in  all  manner  of  waters,  with 
all  manner  of  nets,  it  seems  probable  enough,  this  abtruse  In- 
quiry might,  in  spite  of  the  results  it  leads  to,  have  continued 
dormant  for  indefinite  periods.  The  Editor  of  these  sheets, 
though  otherwise  boasting  himself  a man  of  confirmed  specu- 
lative habits,  and  perhaps  discursive  enough,  is  free  to  confess, 
that  never,  till  these  last  months,  did  the  above  very  plain  con- 
siderations, on  our  total  want  of  a Philosophy  of  Clothes,  occur 
to  him ; and  then,  by  quite  foreign  suggestion.  By  the  arrival, 
namely,  of  a new  Book  from  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  of  Weiss- 
nichtwo ; treating  expressly  of  this  subject,  and  in  a style  which, 
whether  understood  or  not,  could  not  even  by  the  blindest 
be' overlooked.  In  the  present  Editor’s  way  of  thought,  this 
remarkable  Treatise,  with  its  Doctrines,  whether  as  judicially 
acceded  to,  or  judicially  denied,  has  not  remained  without 
effect. 

“ Die  Kleider , ihr  Werden  und  Wirken  (Clothes,  their  Origin 
and  Influence)  : von  Diog.  Teufelsdrockh , J.  U.  D.  etc.  Still- 
schweigen  und  Co0nie ■ Weissnichtwo,  1831. 

“Here,”  says  the  Weissnichtwo’ sche  Anzeiger,  “comes  a 


Chap.  II. 


EDITORIAL  DIFFICULTIES. 


7 


Volume  of  that  extensive,  close-printed,  close-meditated  sort, 
which,  be  it  spoken  with  pride,  is  seen  only  in  Germany,  per- 
haps only  in  Weissnichtwo.  Issuing  from  the  hitherto  irre- 
proachable Firm  of  Stillschweigen  and  Company,  with  every 
external  furtherance,  it  is  of  such  internal  quality  as  to  set 
Neglect  at  defiance.  ...  A work,”  concludes  the  well-nigh 
enthusiastic  Reviewer,  “ interesting  alike  to  the  antiquary,  the 
historian,  and  the  philosophic  thinker ; a masterpiece  of  bold- 
ness, lynx-eyed  acuteness,  and  rugged  independent  Germanism 
and  Philanthropy  ( derber  Kerndeutschheit  und  Menschenliebe)  ; 
which  will  not,  assuredly,  pass  current  without  opposition  in 
high  places  ; but  must  and  will  exalt  the  almost  new  name  of 
Teufelsdrockh  to  the  first  ranks  of  Philosophy,  in  our  German 
Temple  of  Honor.” 

Mindful  of  old  friendship,  the  distinguished  Professor,  in 
this  the  first  blaze  of  his  fame,  which  however  does  not  dazzle 
him,  sends  hither  a Presentation-copy  of  his  Book ; with  com- 
pliments and  encomiums  which  modesty  forbids  the  present 
Editor  to  rehearse ; yet  without  indicated  wish  or  hope  of  any 
kind,  except  what  may  be  implied  in  the  concluding  phrase : 
Mochte  es  (this  remarkable  Treatise)  auch  im  Brittischen  Boden 
gedeihen  ! 


CHAPTER  II. 

EDITORIAL  DIFFICULTIES. 

If  for  a speculative  man,  “ whose  seedfield,”  in  the  sublime 
words  of  the  Poet,  “is  Time,”  no  conquest  is  important  but 
that  of  new  ideas,  then  might  the  arrival  of  Professor  Teu- 
felsdrockh’s  Book  be  marked  with  chalk  in  the  Editor’s  cal- 
endar. It  is  indeed  an  “extensive  Volume,”  of  boundless, 
almost  formless  contents,  a very  Sea  of  Thought ; neither  calm 
nor  clear,  if  you  will;  yet  wherein  the  toughest  pearl-diver 
may  dive  to  his  utmost  depth,  and  return  not  only  with  sea- 
wreck  but  with  true  orients. 


8 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Directly  on  the  first  perusal,  almost  on  the  first  deliberate 
inspection,  it  became  apparent  that  here  a quite  new  Branch 
of  Philosophy,  leading  to  as  yet  undescried  ulterior  results, 
was  disclosed ; farther,  what  seemed  scarcely  less  interesting, 
a quite  new  human  Individuality,  an  almost  unexampled  per- 
sonal character,  that,  namely,  of  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  the 
Discloser.  Of  both  which  novelties,  as  far  as  might  be  pos- 
sible, we  resolved  to  master  the  significance.  But  as  man  is 
emphatically  a proselytizing  creature,  no  sooner  was  such  mas- 
tery even  fairly  attempted,  than  the  new  question  arose : How 
might  this  acquired  good  be  imparted  to  others,  perhaps  in 
equal  need  thereof ; how  could  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes,  and 
the  Author  of  such  Philosophy,  be  brought  home,  in  any  mea- 
sure, to  the  business  and  bosoms  of  our  own  English  Nation? 
For  if  new-got  gold  is  said  to  burn  the  pockets  till  it  be  cast 
forth  into  circulation,  much  more  may  new  truth. 

Here,  however,  difficulties  occurred.  The  first  thought  natu- 
rally was  to  publish  Article  after  Article  on  this  remarkable 
Volume,  in  such  widely  circulating  Critical  Journals  as  the 
Editor  might  stand  connected  with,  or  by  money  or  love 
procure  access  to.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  was  it  not  clear 
that  such  matter  as  must  here  be  revealed,  and  treated  of, 
might  endanger  the  circulation  of  any  Journal  extant?  If, 
indeed,  all  party-divisions  in  the  State  could  have  been  abol- 
ished, Whig,  Tory,  and  Radical,  embracing  in  discrepant 
union;  and  all  the  Journals  of  the  Nation  could  have  been 
jumbled  into  one  Journal,  and  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes 
poured  forth  in  incessant  torrents  thereform,  the  attempt  had 
seemed  possible.  But,  alas,  what  vehicle  of  that  sort  have  we, 
except  Fraser’s  Magazine  ? A vehicle  all  strewed  (figuratively 
speaking)  with  the  maddest  Waterloo-Crackers,  exploding  dis- 
tractively  and  destructively,  wheresoever  the  mystified  pas- 
senger stands  or  sits ; nay,  in  any  case,  understood  to  be,  of 
late  years,  a vehicle  full  to  overflowing,  and  inexorably  shut ! 
Besides,  to  state  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  without  the  Phi- 
losopher, the  ideas  of  Teufelsdrockh  without  something  of  his 
personality,  was  it  not  to  insure  both  of  entire  misapprehen- 
sion ? Now  for  Biography,  had  it  been  otherwise  admissible, 


Chap.  II. 


EDITORIAL  DIFFICULTIES. 


9 


there  were  no  adequate  documents,  no  hope  of  obtaining  such, 
but  rather,  owing  to  circumstances,  a special  despair.  Thus 
did  the  Editor  see  himself,  for  the  while,  shut  out  from  all 
public  utterance  of  these  extraordinary  Doctrines,  and  con- 
strained to  revolve  them,  not  without  disquietude,  in  the  dark 
depths  of  his  own  mind. 

So  had  it  lasted  for  some  months ; and  now  the  Volume  on 
Clothes,  read  and  again  read,  was  in  several  points  becoming 
lucid  and  lucent ; the  personality  of  its  Author  more  and  more 
surprising,  but,  in  spite  of  all  that  memory  and  conjecture 
could  do,  more  and  more  enigmatic ; whereby  the  old  disquie- 
tude seemed  fast  settling  into  fixed  discontent,  — when  alto- 
gether unexpectedly  arrives  a Letter  from  Herr  Hofrath 
Heuschrecke,  our  Professor’s  chief  friend  and  associate  in 
Weissnichtwo,  with  whom  we  had  not  previously  corresponded. 
The  Hofrath,  after  much  quite  extraneous  matter,  began  dilat- 
ing largely  on  the  “ agitation  and  attention  ” which  the  Phi- 
losophy of  Clothes  was  exciting  in.  its  own  German  Republic  of 
Letters ; on  the  deep  significance  and  tendency  of  his  Friend’s 
Volume ; and  then,  at  length,  with  great  circumlocution,  hinted 
at  the  practicability  of  conveying  “ some  knowledge  of  it,  and 
of  him,  to  England,  and  through  England  to  the  distant  West : ” 
a work  on  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  “were  undoubtedly  wel- 
come to  the  Family,  the  National,  or  any  other  of  those 
patriotic  Libraries,  at  present  the  glory  of  British  Litera- 
ture ; ” might  work  revolutions  in  Thought ; and  so  forth ; — in 
conclusion,  intimating  not  obscurely,  that  should  the  present 
Editor  feel  disposed  to  undertake  a Biography  of  Teufels- 
drockh, he,  Hofrath  Heuschrecke,  had  it  in  his  power  to  fur- 
nish the  requisite  Documents. 

As  in  some  chemical  mixture,  that  has  stood  long  evaporat- 
ing, but  would  not  crystallize,  instantly  when  the  wire  or  other 
fixed  substance  is  introduced,  crystallization  commences,  and 
rapidly  proceeds  till  the  whole  is  finished,  so  was  it  with  the 
Editor’s  mind  and  this  offer  of  Heuschrecke’s.  Form  rose  out 
of  void  solution  and  discontinuity ; like  united  itself  with  like 
in  definite  arrangement : and  soon  either  in  actual  vision  and 
possession,  or  in  fixed  reasonable  hope,  the  image  of  the  whole 


10 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Enterprise  had  shaped  itself,  so  to  speak,  into  a solid  mass. 
Cautiously  yet  courageously,  through  the  twopenny  post,  ap- 
plication to  the  famed  redoubtable  Oliver  Yorke  was  now 
made : an  interview,  interviews  with  that  singular  man  have 
taken  place  j with  more  of  assurance  on  our  side,  with  less  of 
satire  (at  least  of  open  satire)  on  his,  than  we  anticipated ; — 
for  the  rest,  with  such  issue  as  is  now  visible.  As  to  those 
same  “ patriotic  Libraries the  Hof  rath’s  counsel  could  only 
be  viewed  with  silent  amazement ; but  with  his  offer  of  Docu- 
ments we  joyfully  and  almost  instantaneously  closed.  Thus, 
too,  in  the  sure  expectation  of  these,  we  already  see  our  task 
begun ; and  this  our  Sartor  Lesartus,  which  is  properly  a “ Life 
and  Opinions  of  Herr  Teufelsdrockh,”  hourly  advancing. 

Of  our  fitness  for  the  Enterprise,  to  which  we  have  such  title 
and  vocation,  it  were  perhaps  uninteresting  to  say  more.  Let 
the  British  reader  study  and  enjoy,  in  simplicity  of  heart, 
what  is  here  presented  him,  and  with  whatever  metaphysical 
acumen  and  talent  for  meditation  he  is  possessed  of.  Let  him 
strive  to  keep  a free,  open  sense  ; cleared  from  the  mists  of 
prejudice,  above  all  from  the  paralysis  of  cant ; and  directed 
rather  to  the  Book  itself  than  to  the  Editor  of  the  Book.  Who 
or  what  such  Editor  may  be,  must  remain  conjectural,  and 
even  insignificant : 1 it  is  a voice  publishing  tidings  of  the  Phi- 
losophy of  Clothes ; undoubtedly  a Spirit  addressing  Spirits : 
whoso  hath  ears,  let  him  hear. 

On  one  other  point  the  Editor  thinks  it  needful  to  give 
warning : namely,  that  he  is  animated  with  a true  though  per- 
haps a feeble  attachment  to  the  Institutions  of  our  Ancestors ; 
and  minded  to  defend  these,  according  to  ability,  at  all  haz- 
ards nay,  it  was  partly  with  a view  to  such  defence  that  he 
engaged  in  this  undertaking.  To  stem,  or  if  that  be  impos- 
sible, profitably  to  divert  the  current  of  Innovation,  such  a 
Volume  as  Teufelsdrockh’s,  if  cunningly  planted  down,  were 
no  despicable  pile,  or  floodgate,  in  the  logical  wear. 

For  the  rest,  be  it  nowise  apprehended,  that  any  personal 

1 With  us  even  he  still  communicates  in  some  sort  of  mask,  or  muffler ; 
and,  we  have  reason  to  think,  under  a feigned  name ! — 0.  Y. 


Chap.  III. 


REMINISCENCES. 


11 


connection  of  ours  with  Teufelsdrockh,  Heuschrecxe,  or  this 
Philosophy  of  Clothes,  can  pervert  our  judgment,  or  sway  us 
to  extenuate  or  exaggerate.  Powerless,  we  venture  to  promise, 
are  those  private  Compliments  themselves.  Grateful  they 
may  well  be ; as  generous  illusions  of  friendship ; as  fair 
mementos  of  bygone  unions,  of  those  nights  and  suppers  of 
the  gods,  when,  lapped  in  the  symphonies  and  harmonies  of 
Philosophic  Eloquence,  though  with  baser  accompaniments,  the 
present  Editor  revelled  in  that  feast  of  reason,  never  since 
vouchsafed  him  in  so  full  measure  ! But  what  then  ? Amicus 
Plato , mqgis  arnica  veritas ; Teufelsdrockh  is  our  friend, 
Truth  is  our  divinity.  In  our  historical  and  critical  capacity, 
we  hope  we  are  strangers  to  all  the  world ; have  feud  or  favor 
with  no  one,  — save  indeed  the  Devil,  with  whom,  as  with  the 
Prince  of  Lies  and  Darkness,  we  do  at  all  times  wage  inter- 
necine war.  This  assurance,  at  an  epoch  when  puffery  and 
quackery  have  reached  a height  unexampled  in  the  annals  of 
mankind,  and  even  English  Editors,  like  Chinese  Shopkeepers, 
must  write  on  their  door-lintels  No  cheating  here , — we  thought 
it  good  to  premise. 


CHAPTER  III. 

REMINISCENCES. 

To  the  Author’s  private  circle  the  appearance  of  this  singu- 
lar Work  on  Clothes  must  have  occasioned  little  less  surprise 
than  it  has  to  the  rest  of  the  world!  Eor  ourselves,  at  least, 
few  things  have  been  more  unexpected.  Professor  Teufels- 
drockh, at  the  period  of  our  acquaintance  with  him,  seemed  to 
lead  a quite  still  and  self-contained  life  : a man  devoted  to  the 
higher  Philosophies,  indeed ; yet  more  likely,  if  he  published 
at  all,  to  publish  a refutation  of  Hegel  and  Bardili,  both  of 
whom,  strangely  enough,  he  included  under  a common  ban; 
than  to  descend,  as  he  has  here  done,  into  the  angry  noisy 
Forum,  with  an  Argument  that  cannot  but  exasperate  and 


12 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I 


divide.  Not,  that  we  can  remember,  was  the  Philosophy  of 
Clothes  once  touched  upon  between  ns.  If  through  the  high, 
silent,  meditative  Transcendentalism  of  our  Friend  we  detected 
any  practical  tendency  whatever,  it  was  at  most  Political,  and 
towards  a certain  prospective,  and  for  the  present  quite  specu- 
lative, Radicalism ; as  indeed  some  correspondence,  on  his 
part,  with  Herr  Oken  of  Jena  was  now  and  then  suspected ; 
though  his  special  contributions  to  the  Isis  could  never  be  more 
than  surmised  at.  But,  at  all  events,  nothing  Moral,  still  less 
anything  Didactico-Religious,  was  looked  for  from  him. 

Well  do  we  recollect  the  last  words  he  spoke  in  our  hearing ; 
which  indeed,  with  the  Night  they  were  uttered  in,  are  to  be 
forever  remembered.  Lifting  his  huge  tumbler  of  Gukguk ,* 
and  for  a moment  lowering  his  tobacco-pipe,  he  stood  up  in 
full  Coffee-house  (it  was  Zur  Griinen  Gans,  the  largest  in  Weiss* 
nichtwo,  where  all  the  Virtuosity,  and  nearly  all  the  Intellect 
of  the  place  assembled  of  an  evening) ; and  there,  with  low, 
soul-stirring  tone,  and  the  look  truly  of  an  angel,  though 
whether  of  a white  or  of  a black  one  might  be  dubious,  pro- 
posed this  toast : Die  Sache  der  Armen  in  Gottes  und  Teufels 

Namen  (The  Cause  of  the  Poor,  in  Heaven’s  name  and ’s)  ! 

One  full  shout,  breaking  the  leaden  silence ; then  a gurgle  of 
innumerable  emptying  bumpers,  again  followed  by  universal 
cheering,  returned  him  loud  acclaim.  It  was  the  finale  of  the 
night : resuming  their  pipes ; in  the  highest  enthusiasm,  amid 
volumes  of  tobacco-smoke ; triumphant,  cloud-capt  without  and 
within,  the  assembly  broke  up,  each  to  his  thoughtful  pillow. 
Bleibt  dock  ein  echter  Spass-  und  Galgen-vogel,  said  several ; 
meaning  thereby  that,  one  day,  he  would  probably  be  hanged 
for  his  democratic  sentiments.  Wo  steckt  dock  der  Sckalk? 
added  they,  looking  round : but  Teufelsdrockh  had  retired  by 
private  alleys,  and  the  Compiler  of  these  pages  beheld  him  no 
more. 

In  such  scenes  has  it  been  our  lot  to  live  with  this  Phi- 
losopher, such  estimate  to  form  of  his  purposes  and  powers. 
And  yet,  thou  brave  Teufelsdrockh,  who  could  tell  what 
lurked  in  thee  ? Under  those  thick  locks  of  thine,  so  long  and 
1 Gukguk  is  unhappily  only  an  academical  — beer. 


Chap.  III. 


REMINISCENCES. 


13 


lank,  overlapping  roof-wise  the  gravest  face  we  ever  in  this 
world  saw,  there  dwelt  a most  busy  brain.  In  thy  eyes  too, 
deep  under  their  shaggy  brows,  and  looking  out  so  still  and 
dreamy,  have  we  not  noticed  gleams  of  an  ethereal  or  else  a 
diabolic  fire,  and  half  fancied  that  their  stillness  was  but  the 
rest  of  infinite  motion,  the  sleep  of  a spinning-top  ? Thy  little 
figure,  there  as,  in  loose  ill-brushed  threadbare  habiliments, 
thou  sattest,  amid  litter  and  lumber,  whole  days,  to  “ think  and 
smoke  tobacco,”  held  in  it  a mighty  heart.  The  secrets  of 
man’s  Life  were  laid  open  to  thee  5 thou  sawest  into  the  mys- 
tery of  the  Universe,  farther  than  another  ; thou  hadst  in  petto 
thy  remarkable  Volume  on  Clothes.  Nay,  was  there  not  in 
that  clear  logically  founded  Transcendentalism  of  thine  ; still 
more,  in  thy  meek,  silent,  deep-seated  Sansculottism,  combined 
with  a true  princely  Courtesy  of  inward  nature,  the  visible  rudi- 
ments of  such  speculation  ? But  great  men  are  too  often  un- 
known, or  what  is  worse,  misknown.  Already,  when  we  dreamed 
not  of  it,  the  warp  of  thy  remarkable  Volume  lay  on  the  loom ; 
and  silently,  mysterious  shuttles  were  putting  in  the  woof. 

How  the  Hofrath  Heuschrecke  is  to  furnish  biographical 
data,  in  this  case,  may  be  a curious  question ; the  answer  of 
which,  however,  is  happily  not  our  concern,  but  his.  To  us  it 
appeared,  after  repeated  trial,  that  in  Weissnichtwo,  from  the 
archives  or  memories  of  the  best-informed  classes,  no  Biogra- 
phy of  Teufelsdrockh  was  to  be  gathered ; not  so  much  as  a 
false  one.  He  was  a stranger  there,  wafted  thither  by  what  is 
called  the  course  of  circumstances  ; concerning  whose  parent- 
age, birthplace,  prospects,  or  pursuits,  curiosity  had  indeed 
made  inquiries,  but  satisfied  herself  with  the  most  indistinct 
replies.  For  himself,  he  was  a man  so  still  and  altogether 
unparticipating,  that  to  question  him  even  afar  off  on  such 
particulars  was  a thing  of  more  than  usual  delicacy : besides, 
in  his  sly  way,  he  had  ever  some  quaint  turn,  not  without  its 
satirical  edge,  wherewith  to  divert  such  intrusions,  and  deter 
you  from  the  like.  Wits  spoke  of  him  secretly  as  if  he  were 
a kind  of  Melchizedek,  without  father  or  mother  of  any  kind ; 
sometimes,  with  reference  to  his  great  historic  and  statistic 


14 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


knowledge,  and  the  vivid  way  he  had  of  expressing  himself  like 
an  eye-witness  of  distant  transactions  and  scenes,  they  called 
him  the  Ewige  Jude,  Everlasting,  or  as  we  say,  Wandering  Jew. 

To  the  most,  indeed,  he  had  become  not  so  much  a Alan  as 
a Thing ; which  Thing  doubtless  they  were  accustomed  to  see, 
and  with  satisfaction ; but  no  more  thought  of  accounting  for 
than  for  the  fabrication  of  their  daily  Allgemeine  Zeitung,  or 
the  domestic  habits  of  the  Sun.  Both  were  there  and  welcome ; 
the  world  enjoyed  what  good  was  in  them,  and  thought  no 
more  of  the  matter.  The  man  Teufelsdrockh  passed  and 
repassed,  in  his  little  circle,  as  one  of  those  originals  and  non- 
descripts, more  frequent  in  German  Universities  than  else- 
where ; of  whom,  though  you  see  them  alive,  and  feel  certain 
enough  that  they  must  have  a History,  no  History  seems  to  be 
discoverable ; or  only  such  as  men  give  of  mountain  rocks  and 
antediluvian  ruins  : That  they  have  been  created  by  unknown 
agencies,  are  in  a state  of  gradual  decay,  and  for  the  present 
reflect  light  and  resist  pressure  ; that  is,  are  visible  and  tan- 
gible objects  in  this  phantasm  world,  where  so  much  other 
mystery  is. 

It  was  to  be  remarked  that  though,  by  title  and  diploma, 
Frofessor  dev  Allerley-Wissenschaft,  or  as  we  should  say  in 
English,  “ Professor  of  Things  in  General,”  he  had  never  de- 
livered any  Course ; perhaps  never  been  incited  thereto  by 
any  public  furtherance  or  requisition.  To  all  appearance,  the 
enlightened  Government  of  Weissnichtwo,  in  founding  their 
New  University,  imagined  they  had  done  enough,  if  “in  times 
like  ours,”  as  the  half-official  Program  expressed  it,  “ when  all 
things  are,  rapidly  or  slowly,  resolving  themselves  into  Chaos, 
a Professorship  of  this  kind  had  been  established ; whereby, 
as  occasion  called,  the  task  of  bodying  somewhat  forth  again 
from  such  Chaos  might  be,  even  slightly,  facilitated.”  That 
actual  Lectures  should  be  held,  and  Public  Classes  for  the 
“Science  of  Things  in  General,”  they  doubtless  considered 
premature ; on  which  ground  too  they  had  only  established 
the  Professorship,  nowise  endowed  it ; so  that  Teufelsdrockh, 
“recommended  by  the  highest  Names,”  had  been  promoted 
thereby  to  a Name  merely. 


Chap.  III. 


REMINISCENCES. 


15 


Great,  among  the  more  enlightened  classes,  was  the  admira- 
tion of  this  new  Professorship : how  an  enlightened  Govern- 
ment had  seen  into  the  Want  of  the  Age  ( Zeitbedurfniss ) ; how 
at  length,  instead  of  Denial  and  Destruction,  we  were  to  have 
a science  of  Affirmation  and  Reconstruction;  and  Germany 
and  Weissnichtwo  were  where  they  should  be,  in  the  vanguard 
of  the  world.  Considerable  also  was  the  wonder  at  the  new 
Professor,  dropt  opportunely  enough  into  the  nascent  Univer- 
sity ; so  able  to  lecture,  should  occasion  call ; so  ready  to  hold 
his  peace  for  indefinite  periods,  should  an  enlightened  Gov- 
ernment consider  that  occasion  did  not  call.  But  such  admira- 
tion and  such  wonder,  being  followed  by  no  act  to  keep  them 
living,  could  last  only  nine  days ; and,  long  before  our  visit 
to  that  scene,  had  quite  died  away.  The  more  cunning  heads 
thought  it  was  all  an  expiring  clutch  at  popularity,  on  the  part 
of  a Minister,  whom  domestic  embarrassments,  court  intrigues, 
old  age,  and  dropsy  soon  afterwards  finally  drove  from  the 
helm. 

As  for  Teufelsdrockh,  except  by  his  nightly  appearances  at 
the  Griine  Gans,  Weissnichtwo  saw  little  of  him,  felt  little  of 
him.  Here,  over  his  tumbler  of  Gukguk,  he  sat  reading  Jour- 
nals ; sometimes  contemplatively  looking  into  the  clouds  of 
his  tobacco-pipe,  without  other  visible  employment : always, 
from  his  mild  ways,  an  agreeable  phenomenon  there ; more 
especially  when  he  opened  his  lips  for  speech ; on  which  occa- 
sions the  whole  Coffee-house  would  hush  itself  into  silence, 
as  if  sure  to  hear  something  noteworthy.  Hay,  perhaps  to 
hear  a whole  series  and  river  of  the*  most  memorable  utter- 
ances ; such  as,  when  once  thawed,  he  would  for  hours  indulge 
in,  with  fit  audience  : and  the  more  memorable,  as  issuing  from 
a head  apparently  not  more  interested  in  them,  not  more  con- 
scious of  them,  than  is  the  sculptured  stone  head  of  some, 
public  fountain,  which  through  its  brass  mouth-tube  emits 
water  to  the  worthy  and  the  unworthy ; careless  whether  it  be 
for  cooking  victuals  or  quenching  conflagrations ; indeed,  main- 
tains the  same  earnest  assiduous  look,  whether  any  water  be 
flowing  or  not. 

To  the  Editor  of  these  sheets,  as  to  a young  enthusiastic 


16 


. SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Englishman,  however  unworthy,  Teufelsdrockh  opened  him- 
self perhaps  more  than  to  the  most.  Pity  only  that  we  could 
not  then  half  guess  his  importance,  and  scrutinize  him  with 
due  power  of  vision!  We  enjoyed,  what  not  three  men  in 
Weissnichtwo  could  boast  of,  a certain  degree  of  access  to 
the  Professor’s  private  domicile.  It  was  the  attic  floor  of  the 
highest  house  in  the  Wahngasse ; and  might  truly  be  called  the 
pinnacle  of  Weissnichtwo,  for  it  rose  sheer  up  above  the  con- 
tiguous roofs,  themselves  rising  from  elevated  ground.  More- 
over, with  its  windows  it  looked  towards  all  the  four  Orte , 
or  as  the  Scotch  say,  and  we  ought  to  say,  Airts : the  sitting- 
room  itself  commanded  three;  another  came  to  view  in  the 
Schlafgemach  (bedroom)  at  the  opposite  end;  to  say  nothing 
of  the  kitchen,  which  offered  two,  as  it  were,  duplicates,  and 
showing  nothing  new.  So  that  it  was  in  fact  the  speculum 
or  watch-tower  of  Teufelsdrockh ; wherefrom,  sitting  at  ease, 
he  might  see  the  whole  life-circulation  of  that  considerable 
City ; the  streets  and  lanes  of  which,  with  all  their  doing  and 
driving  ( Thun  und  Treiben ),  were  for  the  most  part  visible 
there. 

“ I look  down  into  all  that  wasp-nest  or  bee-hive,”  have  we 
heard  him  say,  “and  witness  their  wax-laying  and  honey- 
making, and  poison-brewing,  and  choking  by  sulphur.  Prom 
the  Palace  esplanade,  where  music  plays  while  Serene  High- 
ness is  pleased  to  eat  his  victuals,  down  to  the  low  lane,  where 
in  her  door-sill  the  aged  widow,  knitting  for  a thin  livelihood, 
sits  to  feel  the  afternoon  sun,  I see  it  all;  for,  except  the 
Schlosskirche  weather-cock,  no  biped  stands  so  high.  Couriers 
arrive  bestrapped  and  bebooted,  bearing  Joy  and  Sorrow 
bagged  up  in  pouches  of  leather : there,  top-laden,  and  with 
four  swift  horses,  rolls  in  the  country  Baron  and  his  house- 
hold; here,  on  timber-leg,  the  lamed  Soldier  hops  painfully 
along,  begging  alms : a thousand  carriages,  and  wains,  and 
cars,  come  tumbling  in  with  Food,  with  young  Rusticity,  and 
other  Raw  Produce,  inanimate  or  animate,  and  go  tumbling 
out  again  with  produce  manufactured.  That  living  flood,  pour- 
ing through  these  streets,  of  all  qualities  and  ages,  knowest 
thou  whence  it  is  coming,  whither  it  is  going?  Aus  der 


Chap.  III. 


REMINISCENCES. 


IT 


Ewigkeit , zu  der  Ewigkeit  hin:  From  Eternity,  onwards  to 
Eternity ! These  are  Apparitions  : what  else  ? Are  they  not 
Souls  rendered  visible  : in  Bodies,  that  took  shape  and  will 
lose  it,  melting  into  air  ? Their  solid  Pavement  is  a Picture 
of  the  Sense ; they  walk  on  the  bosom  of  Nothing,  blank  Time 
is  behind  them  and  before  them.  Or  fanciest  thou,  the  red 
and  yellow  Clothes-screen  yonder,  with  spurs  on  its  heels  and 
feather  in  its  crown,  is  but  of  To-day,  without  a Yesterday  or 
a To-morrow;  and  had  not  rather  its  Ancestor  alive  when 
Hengst  and  Horsa  overran  thy  Island  ? Friend,  thou  seest  here 
a living  link  in  that  Tissue  of  History,  which  inweaves  all  Be- 
ing : watch  well,  or  it  will  be  past  thee,  and  seen  no  more.” 

“ Ach , mein  Lieber '!”  said  he  once,  at  midnight,  when  we 
had  returned  from  the  Coffee-house  in  rather  earnest  talk,  “ it 
is  a true  sublimity  to  dwell  here.  These  fringes  of  lamplight, 
struggling  up  through  smoke  and  thousand-fold  exhalation, 
some  fathoms  into  the  ancient  reign  of  Night,  what  thinks 
Bootes  of  them,  as  he  leads  his  Hunting-Dogs  over  the  Zenith 
in  their  leash  of  sidereal  fire  ? That  stifled  hum  of  Midnight, 
when  Traffic  has  lain  down  to  rest ; and  the  chariot-wheels  of 
Vanity,  still  rolling  here  and  there  through  distant  streets, 
are  bearing  her  to  Halls  roofed  in,  and  lighted  to  the  due  pitch 
for  her ; and  only  Vice  and  Misery,  to  prowl  or  to  moan  like 
nightbirds,  are  abroad : that  hum,  I say,  like  the  stertorous, 
unquiet  slumber  of  sick  Life,  is  heard  in  Heaven ! Oh,  under 
that  hideous  coverlet  of  vapors,  and  putrefactions,  and  un- 
imaginable gases,  what  a Fermenting-vat  lies  simmering  and 
hid ! The  joyful  and  the  sorrowful  are  there ; men  are  dying 
there,  men  are  being  born ; men  are  praying,  — on  the  other 
side  of  a brick  partition,  men  are  cursing ; and  around  them 
all  is  the  vast,  void  Night.  The  proud  Grandee  still  lingers 
in  his  perfumed  saloons,  or  reposes  within  damask  curtains ; 
Wretchedness  cowers  into  truckle-beds,  or  shivers  hunger- 
stricken  into  its  lair  of  straw : in  obscure  cellars,  Rouge-et-Noir 
languidly  emits  its  voice-of-destiny  to  haggard  hungry  Villains ; 
while  Councillors  of  State  sit  plotting,  and  playing  their  high 
chess-game,  whereof  the  pawns  are  Men.  The  Lover  whispers 
his  mistress  that  the  coach  is  ready ; and  she,  full  of  hope  and 
yol  i.  9 


18 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


fear,  glides  down,  to  fly  with,  him  over  the  borders  : the  Thief, 
still  more  silently,  sets  to  his  picklocks  and  crowbars,  or  lurks 
in  wait  till  the  watchmen  first  snore  in  their  boxes.  Gay 
mansions,  with  supper-rooms  and  dancing-rooms,  are  full  of 
light  and  music  and  high-swelling  hearts  5 but,  in  the  Con- 
demned Cells,  the  pulse  of  life  beats  tremulous  and  faint,  and 
bloodshot  eyes  look  out  through  the  darkness,  which  is  around 
and  within,  for  the  light  of  a stern  last  morning.  Six  men  are 
to  be  hanged  on  the  morrow : comes  no  hammering  from  the 
Rabenstein  ? — their  gallows  must  even  now  be  o’  building. 
Upwards  of  five  hundred  thousand  two-legged  animals  without 
feathers  lie  round  us,  in  horizontal  position ; their  heads  all 
in  nightcaps,  and  full  of  the  foolishest  dreams.  Riot  cries 
aloud,  and  staggers  and  swaggers  in  his  rank  dens  of  shame ; 
and  the  Mother,  with  streaming  hair,  kneels  over  her  pallid 
dying  infant,  whose  cracked  lips  only  her  tears  now  moisten.  — 
All  these  heaped  and  huddled  together,  with  nothing  but  a 
little  carpentry  and  masonry  between  them ; — crammed  in, 
like  salted  fish  in  their  barrel ; — or  weltering,  shall  I say,  like 
an  Egyptian  pitcher  of  tamed  vipers,  each  struggling  to  get  its 
head  above  the  others : such  work  goes  on  under  that  smoke- 
counterpane  ! — But  I,  mein  Werther,  sit  above  it  all ; I am 
alone  with  the  stars.” 

We  looked  in  his  face  to  see  whether,  in  the  utterance  of 
such  extraordinary  Night-thoughts,  no  feeling  might  be  traced 
there ; but  with  the  light  we  had,  which  indeed  was  only  a sin- 
gle tallow-light,  and  far  enough  from  the  window,  nothing  save 
that  old  calmness  and  fixedness  was  visible. 

These  were  the  .Professor’s  talking  seasons  : most  commonly 
he  spoke  in  mere  monosyllables,  or  sat  altogether  silent  and 
smoked ; while  the  visitor  had  liberty  either  to  say  what  he 
listed,  receiving  for  answer  an  occasional  grunt ; or  to  look 
round  for  a space,  and  then  take  himself  away.  It  was  a 
strange  apartment ; full  of  books  and  tattered  papers,  and 
miscellaneous  shreds  of  all  conceivable  substances,  “ united  in 
a common  element  of  dust.”  Books  lay  on  tables,  and  below 
tables ; here  fluttered  a sheet  of  manuscript,  there  a torn  hand- 
kerchief, or  nightcap  hastily  thrown  aside ; ink-bottles  alter- 


Chap.  III. 


REMINISCENCES. 


19 


nated  with,  bread-crusts,  coffee-pots,  tobacco-boxes,  Periodical 
Literature,  and  Bliicher  Boots.  Old  Lieschen  (Lisekin,  ’Liza), 
who  was  his  bed-maker  and  stove-lighter,  his  washer  and 
wringer,  cook,  errand-maid,  and  general  lion’s-provider,  and 
for  the  rest  a very  orderly  creature,  had  no  sovereign  authority 
in  this  last  citadel  of  Teufelsdrockh ; only  some  once  in  the 
month  she  half-forcibly  made  her  way  thither,  with  broom  and 
duster,  and  (Teufelsdrockh  hastily  saving  his  manuscripts) 
effected  a partial  clearance,  a jail-delivery  of  such  lumber  as 
was  not  Literary.  These  were  her  Erdbeben  (earthquakes), 
which  Teufelsdrockh  dreaded  worse  than  the  pestilence ; never- 
theless, to  such  length  he  had  been  forced  to  comply.  Glad 
would  he  have  been  to  sit  here  philosophizing  forever,  or  till 
the  litter,  by  accumulation,  drove  him  out  of  doors : but  Lies- 
chen was  his  right-arm,  and  spoon,  and  necessary  of  life,  and 
would  not  be  flatly  gainsay ed.  We  can  still  remember  the 
ancient  woman ; so  silent* that  some  thought  her  dumb;  deaf 
also  you  would  often  have  supposed  her ; for  Teufelsdrockh, 
and  Teufelsdrockh  only,  would  she  serve  or  give  heed  to; 
and  with  him  she  seemed  to  communicate  chiefly  by  signs ; 
if  it  were  not  rather  by  some  secret  divination  that  she 
guessed  all  his  wants,  and  supplied  them.  Assiduous  old 
dame  ! she  scoured,  and  sorted,  and  swept,  in  her  kitchen,  with 
the  least  possible  violence  to  the  ear ; yet  all  was  tight  and 
right  there : hot  and  black  came  the  coffee  ever  at  the  due 
moment;  and  the  speechless  Lieschen  herself  looked  out  on 
you,  from  under  her  clean  white  coif  with  its  lappets,  through 
her  clean  withered  face  and  wrinkles,  with  a look  of  helpful 
intelligence,  almost  of  benevolence. 

Few  strangers,  as  above  hinted,  had  admittance  hither : the  m 
only  one  we  ever  saw  there,  ourselves  excepted,  was  the  Hof- 
rath  Heuschrecke,  already  known,  by  name  and  expectation, 
to  the  readers  of  these  pages.  To  us,  at  that  period,  Herr 
Heuschrecke  seemed  one  of  those  purse-mouthed,  crane-necked, 
clean-brushed,  pacific  individuals,  perhaps  sufficiently  distin- 
guished in  society  by  this  fact,  that,  in  dry  weather  or  in  wet, 
“they  never  appear  without  their  umbrella.”  Had  we  not 
known  with  what  “ little  wisdom  ” the  world  is  governed ; and 


20 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


how,  in  Germany  as  elsewhere,  the  ninety-and-nine  Public  Men 
can  for  most  part  be  but  mute  train-bearers  to  the  hundredth, 
perhaps  but  stalking-horses  and  willing  or  unwilling  dupes,  — 
it  might  have  seemed  wonderful  how  Herr  Heuschrecke  should 
be  named  a Rath , or  Councillor,  and  Counsellor,  even  in  Weiss- 
nichtwo.  What  counsel  to  any  man,  or  to  any  woman,  could 
this  particular  Hofrath  give ; in  whose  loose,  zigzag  figure ; in 
whose  thin  visage,  as  it  went  jerking  to  and  fro,  in  minute 
incessant  fluctuation,  — you  traced  rather  confusion  worse  con- 
founded ; at  most,  Timidity  and  physical  Cold  ? Some  indeed 
said  withal,  he  was  “ the  very  Spirit  of  Love  embodied : ” blue 
earnest  eyes,  full  of  sadness  and  kindness ; purse  ever  open, 
and  so  forth ; the  whole  of  which,  we  shall  now  hope,  for  many 
reasons,  was  not  quite  groundless.  Nevertheless  friend  Teu- 
felsdrockh’s  outline,  who  indeed  handled  the  burin  like  few  in 
these  cases,  was  probably  the  best : Er  hat  Gemuth  und  Geist , 
hat  wenigstens  gehabt , doch  ohne  Organ , ohne  Schicksals-Gunst ; 
ist  gegenwartig  aber  halb-zerruttet , halb-erstarrt , “ He  has  heart 
and  talent,  at  least  has  had  such,  yet  without  fit  mode  of 
utterance,  or  favor  of  Fortune ; and  so  is  now  half-cracked, 
half-congealed.”  — What  the  Hofrath.  shall  think  of  this  when 
he  sees  it,  readers  may  wonder ; we,  safe  in  the  stronghold  of 
Historical  Fidelity,  are  careless. 

The  main  point,  doubtless,  for  us  all,  is  his  love  of  Teu- 
felsdrockh,  which  indeed  was  also  by  far  the  most  decisive 
feature  of  Heuschrecke  himself.  We  are  enabled  to  assert 
that  he  hung  on  the  Professor  with  the  fondness  of  a Boswell 
for  his  Johnson.  And  perhaps  with  the  like  return;  for 
Teufelsdrockh  treated  his  gaunt  admirer  with  little  outward 
regard,  as  some  half-rational  or  altogether  irrational  friend, 
and  at  best  loved  him  out  of  gratitude  and  by  habit.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  was  curious  to  observe  with  what  reverent  kind- 
ness, and  a sort  of  fatherly  protection,  our  Hofrath,  being  the 
elder,  richer,  and  as  he  fondly  imagined  far  more  practically 
influential  of  the  two,  looked  and  tended  on  his  little  Sage, 
whom  he  seemed  to  consider  as  a living  oracle.  Let  but  Teu- 
felsdrockh  open  his  mouth,  Heuschreeke’s  also  unpuckered 
itself  into  a free  doorway,  besides  his  being  all  eye  and  all  ear, 


Chap.  III. 


EEMINISCENCES. 


21 


so  that  nothing  might  be  lost : and  then,  at  every  pause  in  the 
harangue,  he  gurgled  out  his  pursy  chuckle  of  a cough-laugh 
(for  the  machinery  of  laughter  took  some  time  to  get  in  mo- 
tion, and  seemed  crank  and  slack),  or  else  his  twanging  nasal, 
Bravo  ! Das  glautf  ich ; in  either  case,  by  way  of  heartiest 
approval.  In  short,  if  Teufelsdrockh  was  Dalai-Lama,  of 
which,  except  perhaps  in  his  self-seclusion,  and  godlike  in- 
difference, there  was  no  symptom,  then  might  Heuschrecke 
pass  for  his  chief  Talapoin,  to  whom  no  dough-pill  he  could 
knead  and  publish  was  other  than  medicinal  and  sacred. 

In  such  environment,  social,  domestic,  physical,  did  Teu- 
felsdrockh, at  the  time  of  our  acquaintance,  and  most  likely 
does  he  still,  live  and  meditate.  Here,  perched  up  in  his  high 
Wahngasse  watch-tower,  and  often,  in  solitude,  oufcwatching 
the  Bear,  it  was  that  the  indomitable  Inquirer  fought  all  his 
battles  with  Dulness  and  Darkness ; here,  in  all  probability, 
that  he  wrote  this  surprising  Volume  on  Clothes.  Additional 
particulars  : of  his  age,  which  was  of  that  standing  middle  sort 
you  could  only  guess  at ; of  his  wide  surtout ; the  color  of  his 
trousers,  fashion  of  his  broad-brimmed  steeple-hat,  and  so 
forth,  we  might  report,  but  do  not.  The  Wisest  truly  is,  in 
these  times,  the  Greatest;  so  that  an  enlightened  curiosity, 
leaving  Kings  and  such  like  to  rest  very  much  on  their  own 
basis,  turns  more  and  more  to  the  Philosophic  Class : never- 
theless, what  reader  expects  that,  with  all  our  writing  and 
reporting,  Teufelsdrockh  could  be  brought  home  to  him,  till  once, 
the  Documents  arrive  ? His  Life,  Fortunes,  and  Bodily  Pres- 
ence, are  as  yet  hidden  from  us,  or  matter  only  of  faint  con- 
jecture. But,  on  the  other  hand,  does  not  his  Soul  lie  enclosed 
in  this  remarkable  Volume,  much  more  truly  than  Pedro 
Garcia’s  did  in  the  buried  Bag  of  Doubloons  ? To  the  soul  of 
Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh,  to  his  opinions,  namely,  on  the  “ Origin 
and  Influence  of  Clothes,”  we  for  the  present  gladly  return. 


22 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  1, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHARACTERISTICS. 

It  were  a piece  of  vain  flattery  to  pretend  that  this  Work  on 
Clothes  entirely  contents  us ; that  it  is  not,  like  all  works  of 
genius,  like  the  very  Sun,  which,  though  the  highest  published 
creation,  or  work  of  genius,  has  nevertheless  black  spots  and 
troubled  nebulosities  amid  its  effulgence,  — a mixture  of  in- 
sight, inspiration,  with  dulness,  double-vision,  and  even  utter 
blindness. 

Without  committing  ourselves  to  those  enthusiastic  praises 
and  prophesyings  of  the  Weissnichtwo’ sche  Anzeiger , we  ad- 
mitted that  the  Book  had  in  a high  degree  excited  us  to  self- 
activity, which  is  the  best  effect  of  any  book ; that  it  had  even 
operated  changes  in  our  way  of  thought ; nay,  that  it  promised 
to  prove,  as  it  were,  the  opening  of  a new  mine-shaft,  wherein 
the  whole  world  of  Speculation  might  henceforth  dig  to  un- 
known depths.  More  specially  may  it  now  be  declared  that 
Professor  Teufelsdrockh’s  acquirements,  patience  of  research, 
philosophic  and  even  poetic  vigor,  are  here  made  indisputably 
manifest ; and  unhappily  no  less  his  prolixity  and  tortuosity 
and  manifold  ineptitude ; that,  on  the  whole,  as  in  opening 
new  mine-shafts  is  not  unreasonable,  there  is  much  rubbish  in 
his  Book,  though  likewise  specimens  of  almost  invaluable  ore. 
A paramount  popularity  in  England  we  cannot  promise  him. 
Apart  from  the  choice  of  such  a topic  as  Clothes,  too  often 
the  manner  of  treating  it  betokens  in  the  Author  a rusticity 
and  academic  seclusion,  unblamable,  indeed  inevitable  in  a 
German,  but  fatal  to  his  success  with  our  public. 

Of  good  society  Teufelsdrockh  appears  to  have  seen  little, 
or  has  mostly  forgotten  what  he  saw.  He  speaks  out  with 
a strange  plainness ; calls  many  things  by  their  mere  dic- 
tionary names.  To  him  the  Upholsterer  is  no  Pontiff,  neither 


Chap.  IV. 


CHARACTERISTICS. 


23 


is  any  Drawing-room  a Temple,  were  it  never  so  begilt  and 
overbung : “ a whole  immensity  of  Brussels  carpets,  and  pier- 
glasses,  and  ormolu,”  as  he  himself  expresses  it,  “ cannot  hide 
from  me  that  such  Drawing-room  is  simply  a section  of  Infi- 
nite Space,  where  so  many  God-created  Souls  do  for  the  time 
meet  together.”  To  Teufelsdrockh  the  highest  Duchess  is 
respectable,  is  venerable ; but  nowise  for  her  pearl  bracelets 
and  Malines  laces : in  his  eyes,  the  star  of  a Lord  is  little  less 
and  little  more  than  the  broad  button  of  Birmingham  spelter 
in  a Clown’s  smock^  “each  is  an  implement,”  he  says,  “in  its 
kind;  a tag  for  hooking-together ; and,  for  the  rest,  was  dug 
from  the  earth,  and  hammered  on  a stithy  before  smith’s  fin- 
gers.” Thus  does  the  Professor  look  in  men’s  faces  with  a 
strange  impartiality,  a strange  scientific  freedom ; like  a man 
unversed  in  the  higher  circles,  like  a man  dropped  thither  from 
the  Moon.  Rightly  considered,  it  is  in  this  peculiarity,  run- 
ning through  his  whole  system  of  thought,  that  all  these  short- 
comings, over-shootings,  and  multiform  perversities,  take  rise : 
if  indeed  they  have  not  a second  source,  also  natural  enough,  in 
his  Transcendental  Philosophies,  and  humor  of  looking  at  all 
Matter  and  Material  things  as  Spirit ; whereby  truly  his  case 
were  but  the  more  hopeless,  the  more  lamentable. 

To  the  Thinkers  of  this  nation,  however,  of  which  class  it  is 
firmly  believed  there  are  individuals  yet  extant,  we  can  safely 
recommend  the  Work:  nay,  who  knows  but  among  the  fash- 
ionable ranks  too,  if  it  be  true,  as  Teufelsdrockh  maintains,  that 
“ within  the  most  starched  cravat  there  passes  a windpipe  and 
weasand,  and  under  the  thickliest  embroidered  waistcoat  beats 
a heart,”  — the  force  of  that  rapt  earnestness  may  be  felt,  and 
heie  and  there  an  arrow  of  the  soul  pierce  through  ? In  our 
wild  Seer,  shaggy,  unkempt,  like  a Baptist  living  on  locusts  and 
wild  honey,  there  is  an  untutored  energy,  a silent,  as  it  were 
unconscious,  strength,  which,  except  in  the  higher  walks  of 
Literature,  must  be  rare.  Many  a deep  glance,  and  often  with 
unspeakable  precision,  has  he  cast  into  mysterious  Nature, 
and  the  still  more  mysterious  Life  of  Man.  Wonderful  it  is 
with  what  cutting  words,  now  and  then,  he  severs  asunder  the 
confusion ; sheers  down,  were  it  furlongs  deep,  into  the  true 


24 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


centre  of  the  matter ; and  there  not  only  hits  the  nail  on  the 
head,  but  with  crushing  force  smites  it  home,  and  buries  it. 
— On  the  other  hand,  let  ns  be  free  to  admit,  he  is  the  most 
unequal  writer  breathing.  Often  after  some  such  feat,  he 
will  play  truant  for  long  pages,  and  go  dawdling  and  dream- 
ing, and  mumbling  and  maundering  the  merest  commonplaces, 
as  if  he  were  asleep  with  eyes  open,  which  indeed  he  is. 

Of  his  boundless  Learning,  and  how  all  reading  and  litera- 
ture in  most  known  tongues,  from  Sanchoniathon  to  Dr.  Lin- 
gard,  from  your  Oriental  Shasters , and  Talmuds,  and  Korans, 
with  Cassini’s  Siamese  Tables , and  Laplace’s  Mecanigue  Celeste , 
down  to  Robinson  Crusoe  and  the  Belfast  Town  and  Country 
Almanack , are  familiar  to  him, — we  shall  say  nothing:  for 
unexampled  as  it  is  with  us,  to  the  Germans  such  universality 
of  study  passes  without  wonder,  as  a thing  commendable, 
indeed,  but  natural,  indispensable,  and  there-of  course.  A man 
that  devotes  his  life  to  learning,  shall  he  not  be  learned  ? 

In  respect  of  style  our  Author  manifests  the  same  genial 
capability,  marred  too  often  by  the  same  rudeness,  inequality, 
and  apparent  want  of  intercourse  with  the  higher  classes. 
Occasionally,  as  above  hinted,  we  find  consummate  vigor,  a 
true  inspiration ; his  burning  thoughts  step  forth  in  fit  burn- 
ing words,  like  so  many  full-formed  Minervas,  issuing  amid 
flame  and  splendor  from  Jove’s  head;  a rich,  idiomatic  dic- 
tion, picturesque  allusions,  fiery  poetic  emphasis,  or  quaint 
tricksy  turns ; all  the  graces  and  terrors  of  a wild  Imagina- 
tion, wedded  to  the  clearest  Intellect,  alternate  in  beautiful 
vicissitude.  Were  it  not  that  sheer  sleeping  and  soporific 
passages ; circumlocutions,  repetitions,  touches  even  of  pure 
doting  jargon,  so  often  intervene ! On  the  whole,  Professor 
Teufelsdrockh  is  not  a cultivated  writer.  Of  his  sentences 
perhaps  not  more  than  nine-tenths  stand  straight  on  their  legs ; 
the  remainder  are  in  quite  angular  attitudes,  buttressed  up  by 
props  (of  parentheses  and  dashes),  and  ever  with  this  or  the 
other  tagrag  hanging  from  them ; a few  even  sprawl  out  help- 
lessly on  all  sides,  quite  broken-backed  and  dismembered. 
Nevertheless,  in  almost  his  very  worst  moods,  there  lies  in 
him  a singular  attraction.  A wild  tone  pervades  the  whole 


Chap.  IV. 


CHARACTERISTICS. 


25 


utterance  of  the  man,  like  its  keynote  and  regulator;  now 
screwing  itself  aloft  as  into  the  Song  of  Spirits,  or  else  the 
shrill  mockery  of  Fiends ; now  sinking  in  cadences,  not  with- 
out melodious  heartiness,  though  sometimes  abrupt  enough, 
into  the  common  pitch,  when  we  hear  it  only  as  a monotonous 
hum  j of  which  hum  the  true  character  is  extremely  difficult  to 
fix.  Up  to  this  hour  we  have  never  fully  satisfied  ourselves 
whether  it  is  a tone  and  hum  of  real  Humor,  which  we  reckon 
among  the  very  highest  qualities  of  genius,  or  some  echo  of 
mere  Insanity  and  Inanity,  which  doubtless  ranks  below  the 
very  lowest. 

Under  a like  difficulty,  in  spite  even  of  our  personal  inter- 
course, do  we  still  lie  with  regard  to  the  Professor’s  moral 
feeling.  Gleams  of  an  ethereal  love  burst  forth  from  him, 
soft  wailings  of  infinite  pity ; he  could  clasp  the  whole  Uni- 
verse into  his  bosom,  and  keep  it  warm ; it  seems  as  if  under 
that  rude  exterior  there  dwelt  a very  seraph.  Then  again  he 
is  so  sly  and  still,  so  imperturbably  saturnine ; shows  such 
indifference,  malign  coolness  towards  all  that  men  strive  after ; 
and  ever  with  some  half-visible  wrinkle  of  a bitter  sardonic 
humor,  if  indeed  it  be  not  mere  stolid  callousness,  — that  you 
look  on  him  almost  with  a shudder,  as  on  some  incarnate 
Mephistopheles,  to  whom  this  great  .terrestrial  and  celestial 
Round,  after  all,  were  but  some  huge  foolish  Whirligig,  where 
kings  and  beggars,  and  angels  and  demons,  and  stars  and 
street-sweepings,  were  chaotically  whirled,  in  which  only  chil- 
dren could  take  interest.  His  look,  as  we  mentioned,  is  proba- 
bly the  gravest  ever  seen : yet  it  is  not  of  that  cast-iron  gravity 
frequent  enough  among  our  own  Chancery  suitors ; but  rather 
the  gravity  as  of  some  silent,  high-encircled  mountain-pool, 
perhaps  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano ; into  whose  black 
deeps  you  fear  to  gaze  : those  eyes,  those  lights  that  sparkle  in 
it,  may  indeed  be  reflexes  of  the  heavenly  Stars,  but  perhaps 
also  glances  from  the  region  of  Nether  Fire. 

Certainly  a most  involved,  self-secluded,  altogether  enigmatic 
nature,  this  of  Teufelsdrockh  l Here,  however,  we  gladly  re- 
call to  mind  that  once  we  saw  him  laugh  ; once  only,  perhaps 
it  was  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life ; but  then  such  a peal 


26 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


of  laughter,  enough  to  have  awakened  the  Seven  Sleepers  ! 
It  was  of  Jean  Paul’s  doing : some  single  billow  in  that  vast 
World-Mahlstrom  of  Humor,  with  its  heaven-kissing  corusca- 
tions, which  is  now,  alas,  all  congealed  in  the  frost  of  death  ! 
The  large-bodied  Poet  and  the  small,  both  large  enough  in 
soul,  sat  talking  miscellaneously  together,  the  present  Editor 
being  privileged  to  listen;  and  now  Paul,  in  his  serious  way, 
was  giving  one  of  those  inimitable  “ Extra-Harangues ; ” and,  as 
it  chanced,  On  the  Proposal  for  a Cast-metal  King  : gradually 
a light  kindled  in  our  Professor’s  eyes  and  face,  a beaming, 
mantling,  loveliest  light;  through  those  murky  features,  a 
radiant  ever-young  Apollo  looked ; and  he  burst  forth  like  the 
neighing  of  all  Tattersall’s,  — tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks, 
pipe  held  aloft,  foot  clutched  into  the  air,  — loud,  long-con- 
tinuing, uncontrollable ; a laugh  not  of  the  face  and  diaphragm 
only,  but  of  the  whole  man  from  head  to  heel.  The  present 
'Editor,  who  laughed  indeed,  yet  with  measure,  began  to  fear 
all  was  not  right : however,  Teufelsdrockh  composed  himself, 
and  sank  into  his  old  stillness ; on  his  inscrutable  countenance 
there  was,  if  anything,  a slight  look  of  shame ; and  Richter 
himself  could  not  rouse  him  again.  Readers  who  have  any 
tincture  of  Psychology  know  how  much  is  to  be  inferred  from 
this ; and  that  no  man  who  has  once  heartily  and  wholly 
laughed  can  be  altogether  irreclaimably  bad.  How  much  lies 
in  Laughter  : the  cipher-key,  wherewith  we  decipher  the  whole 
man ! Some  men  wear  an  everlasting  barren  simper ; in  the 
smile  of  others  lies  a cold  glitter  as  of  ice : the  fewest  are  able 
to  laugh,  what  can  be  called  laughing,  but  only  sniff  and  titter 
and  snigger  from  the  throat  outwards;  or  at  best,  produce 
some  whiffling  husky  cachinnation,  as  if  they  were  laughing 
through  wool : of  none  such  comes  good.  The  man  who  can- 
not laugh  is  not  only  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils ; 
but  his  whole  life  is  already  a treason  and  a stratagem. 

Considered  as  an  Author,  Herr  Teufelsdrockh  has  one 
scarcely  pardonable  fault,  doubtless  his  worst : an  almost  total 
want  of  arrangement.  In  this  remarkable  Volume,  it  is  true, 
his  adherence  to  the  mere  course  of  Time  produces,  through 
the  Narrative  portions,  a certain  show  of  outward  method ; but 


Chap.  V. 


THE  WORLD  IN  CLOTHES. 


27 


of  true  logical  method  and  sequence  there  is  too  little.  Apart 
from  its  multifarious  sections  and  subdivisions,  the  Work 
naturally  falls  into  two  Parts ; a Historical-Descriptive,  and  a 
Philosophical-Speculative  : but  falls,  unhappily,  by  no  firm  line 
of  demarcation;  in  that  labyrinthic  combination,  each  Part 
overlaps,  and  indents,  and  indeed  runs  quite  through  the  other. 
Many  sections  are  of  a debatable  rubric,  or  even  quite  non- 
descript and  unnamable  ; whereby  the  Book  not  only  loses  in 
accessibility,  but  too  often  distresses  us  like  some  mad  banquet, 
wherein  all  courses  had  been  confounded,  and  fish  and  flesh, 
soup  and  solid,  oyster-sauce,  lettuces,  Rhine-wine  and  French 
mustard,  were  hurled  into  one  huge  tureen  or  trough,  and  the 
hungry  Public  invited  to  help  itself.  To  bring  what  order  we 
can  out  of  this  Chaos  shall  be  part  of  our  endeavor. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  WORLD  IN  CLOTHES. 

V As  Montesquieu  wrote  a Spirit  of  Laws,”  observes  our  Pro- 
fessor, “so  could  I write  a Spirit  of  Clothes ; thus,  with  an 
Esprit  des  Lois,  properly  an  Esprit  de  Coutumes , we  should  have 
an  Esprit  de  Costumes.  For  neither  in  tailoring  nor  in  legis- 
lating does  man  proceed  by  mere  Accident,  but  the  hand  is 
ever  guided  on  by  mysterious  operations  of  the  mind.  In  all 
his  Modes,  and  habilatory  endeavors,  an  Architectural  Idea 
will  be  found  lurking;  his  Body  and  the  Cloth  are  the  site 
and  materials  whereon  and  whereby  his  beautified  edifice,  of 
a Person,  is  to  be  built.  Whether  he  flow  gracefully  out  in 
folded  mantles,  based  on  light  sandals ; tower  up  in  high  head- 
gear,  from  amid  peaks,  spangles  and  bell-girdles  ; swell  but  in 
starched  ruffs,  buckram  stuffings,  and  monstrous  tuberosities ; 
or  girth  himself  into  separate  sections,  and  front  the  world  an 
Agglomeration  of  four  limbs, — will  depend  on  the  nature 
of  such  Architectural  Idea : whether  Grecian,  Gothic,  Later- 


28 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Gothic,  or  altogether  Modern,  and  Parisian  or  Anglo-Dandia- 
cal. Again,  what  meaning  lies  in  Color ! Prom  the  soberest 
drab  to  the  high-flaming  scarlet,  spiritual  idiosyncrasies  unfold 
themselves  in  choice  of  Color : if  the  Cut  betoken  Intellect 
and  Talent,  so  does  the  Color  betoken  Temper  and  Heart.  In 
all  which,  among  nations  as  among  individuals,  there  is  an 
incessant,  indubitable,  though  infinitely  complex  working  of 
Cause  and  Effect : every  snip  of  the  Scissors  has  been  regu- 
lated and  prescribed  by  ever-active  Influences,  which  doubtless 
to  Intelligences  of  a superior  order  are  neither  invisible  nor 
illegible. 

“For  such  superior  Intelligences  a Cause-and-Effect  Phi- 
losophy of  Clothes,  as  of  Laws,  were  probably  a comfortable 
winter-evening  entertainment : nevertheless,  for  inferior  In- 
telligences, like  men,  such  Philosophies  have  always  seemed 
to  me  uninstructive  enough.  Hay,  what  is  your  Montesquieu 
himself  but  a clever  infant  spelling  Letters  from  a hieroglyphi- 
cal  prophetic  Book,  the  lexicon  of  which  lies  in  Eternity,  in 
Heaven  ? — Let  any  Cause-and-Effect  Philosopher  explain,  not 
why  I wear  such  and  such  a Garment,  obey  such  and  such  a 
Law ; but  even  why  I am  here,  to  wear  and  obey  anything  ! — 
Much,  therefore,  if  not  the  whole,  of  that  same  Spirit  of  Clothes 
I shall  suppress,  as  hypothetical,  ineffectual,  and  even  imperti- 
nent : naked  Facts,  and  Deductions  drawn  therefrom  in  quite 
another  than  that  omniscient  style,  are  my  humbler  and  proper 
province.” 

Acting  on  which  prudent  restriction,  Teufelsdrockh  has 
nevertheless  contrived  to  take  in  a well-nigh  boundless  extent 
of  field ; at  least,  the  boundaries  too  often  lie  quite  beyond  our 
horizon.  Selection  being  indispensable,  we  shall  here  glance 
over  his  First  Part  only  in  the  most  cursory  manner.  This 
First  Part  is,  no  doubt,  distinguished  by  omnivorous  learning, 
and  utmost  patience  and  fairness : at  the  same  time,  in  its 
results  and  delineations,  it  is  much  more  likely  to  interest  the 
Compilers  of  some  Library  of  General,  Entertaining,  Useful, 
or  even  Useless  Knowledge  than  the  miscellaneous  readers  of 
these  pages.  Was  it  this  Part  of  the  Book  which  Heuschrecke 
had  in  view,  when  he  recommended  us  to  that  joint-stock 


Chap.  V. 


THE  WORLD  IN  CLOTHES. 


29 


vehicle  of  publication,  “ at  present  the  glory  of  British  Litera- 
ture ” ? If  so,  the  Library  Editors  are  welcome  to  dig  in  it 
for  their  own  behoof. 

To  the  First  Chapter,  which  turns  on  Paradise  and  Fig- 
leaves,  and  leads  us  into  interminable  disquisitions  of  a 
mythological,  metaphorical,  cabalistico-sartorial  and  quite 
antediluvian  cast,  we  shall  content  ourselves  with  giving  an 
unconcerned  approval.  Still  less  have  we  to  do  with  “ Lilis, 
Adam’s  first  wife,  whom,  according  to  the  Talmudists,  he  had 
before  Eve,  and  who  bore  him,  in  that  wedlock,  the  whole 
progeny  of  aerial,  aquatic,  and  terrestrial  Devils,”  — very 
needlessly,  we  think.  On  this  portion  of  the  Work,  with  its 
profound  glances  into  the  Adam-Kadmon , or  Primeval  Ele- 
ment, here  strangely  brought  into  relation  with  the  Nifi  and 
Mnspel  (Darkness  and  Light)  of  the  antique  North,  it  may  be 
enough  to  say,  that  its  correctness  of  deduction,  and  depth  of 
Talmudic  and  Rabbinical  lore  have  filled  perhaps  not  the  worst 
Hebraist  in  Britain  with  something  like  astonishment. 

But,  quitting  this  twilight  region,  Teufelsdrockh  hastens 
from  the  Tower  of  Babel,  to  follow  the  dispersion  of  Mankind 
over  the  whole  habitable  and  habilable  globe.  Walking  by 
the  light  of  Oriental,  Pelasgic,  Scandinavian,  Egyptian,  Ota- 
heitean,  Ancient  and  Modern  researches  of  every  conceivable 
kind,  he  strives  to  give  us  in  compressed  shape  (as  the  Niirn- 
bergers  give  an  Orbis  Pictus)  an  Orbis  Vestitus;  or  view  of  the 
costumes  of  all  mankind,  in  all  countries,  in  all  times.  It  is 
here  that  to  the  Antiquarian,  to  the  Historian,  we  can  trium- 
phantly say  : Fall  to ! Here  is  learning : an  irregular  Treasury, 
if  you  will;  but  inexhaustible  as  the  Hoard  of  King  Nibelung, 
which  twelve  wagons  in  twelve  days,  at  the  rate  of  three  jour- 
neys a day,  could  not  carry  off.  Sheepskin  cloaks  and  wampum 
belts;  phylacteries,  stoles,  albs;  chlamydes,  togas,  Chinese 
silks,  Afghaun  shawls,  trunk-hose,  leather  breeches,  Celtic 
hilibegs  (though  breeches,  as  the  name  Gallia  Braccata  indi- 
cates, are  the  more  ancient),  Hussar  cloaks,  Vandyke  tippets, 
ruffs,  fardingales,  are  brought  vividly  before  us,  — even  the 
Kilmarnock  nightcap  is  not  forgotten.  For  most  part,  too, 
we  must  admit  that  the  Learning,  heterogeneous  as  it  is, 


30 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


and  tumbled  down  quite  pell-mell,  is  true  concentrated  and 
purified  Learning,  the  drossy  parts  smelted  out  and  thrown 
aside. 

Philosophical  reflections  intervene,  and  sometimes  touching 
pictures  of  human  life.  Of  this  sort  the  following  has  sur- 
prised us.  The  first  purpose  of  Clothes,  as  our  Professor  im- 
agines, was  not  warmth  or  decency,  but  ornament.  “ Miserable 
indeed,”  says  he,  “was  the  condition  of  the  Aboriginal  Savage, 
glaring  fiercely  from  under  his  fleece  of  hair,  which  with  the 
beard  reached  down  to  his  loins,  and  hung  round  him  like  a 
matted  cloak ; the  rest  of  his  body  sheeted  in  its  thick  natural 
fell.  He  loitered  in  the  sunny  glades  of  the  forest,  living  on 
wild-fruits ; or,  as  the  ancient  Caledonian,  squatted  himself  in 
morasses,  lurking  for  his  bestial  or  human  prey ; without  im- 
plements, without  arms,  save  the  ball  of  heavy  Flint,  to  which; 
that  his  sole  possession  and  defence  might  not  be  lost,  he  had 
attached  a long  cord  of  plaited  thongs ; thereby  recovering  as 
well  as  hurling  it  with  deadly  unerring  skill.  Nevertheless, 
the  pains  of  Hunger  and  Revenge  once  satisfied,  his  next  care 
was  not  Comfort  but  Decoration  ( Putz ).  Warmth  he  found  in 
the  toils  of  the  chase ; or  amid  dried  leaves,  in  his  hollow  tree,  in 
his  bark  shed,  or  natural  grotto : but  for  Decoration  he  must 
have  Clothes.  Nay,  among  wild  people,  we  find  tattooing  and 
painting  even  prior  to  Clothes.  The  first  spiritual  want  of  a 
barbarous  man  is  Decoration,  as  indeed  we  still  see  among  the 
barbarous  classes  in  civilized  countries. 

“Reader,  the  heaven-inspired  melodious  Singer;  loftiest 
Serene  Highness;  nay  thy  own  amber-locked,  snow-and-rose- 
bloom  Maiden,  worthy  to  glide  sylph-like  almost  on  air,  whom 
thou  lovest,  worshippest  as  a divine  Presence,  which,  indeed, 
symbolically  taken,  she  is, — has  descended,  like  thyself,  from 
that  same  hair-mantled,  flint-hurling  Aboriginal  Anthropopha- 
gus  ! Out  of  the  eater  cometh  forth  meat ; out  of  the  strong 
cometh  forth  sweetness.  What  changes  are  wrought,  not  by 
Time,  yet  in  Time ! For  not  Mankind  only,  but  all  that  Man- 
kind does  or  beholds,  is  in  continual  growth,  re-genesis  and 
self-perfecting  vitality.  Cast  forth  thy  Act,  thy  Word,  into 
the  ever-living,  ever-working  Universe : it  is  a seed-grain  that 


Chap.  V. 


THE  WORLD  IN  CLOTHES. 


31 


cannot  die ; unnoticed  to-day  (says  one),  it  will  be  found  flour- 
ishing as  a .Banyan-grove  (perhaps,  alas,  as  a Hemlock-forest!) 
after  a thousand  years. 

“He  who  first  shortened  the  labor  of  Copyists  by  device  of 
Movable  Types  was  disbanding  hired  Armies,  and  cashiering 
most  Kings  and  Senates,  and  creating  a whole  new  Democratic 
world : he  had  invented  the  Art  of  Printing.  The  first  ground 
handful  of  Nitre,  Sulphur,  and  Charcoal  drove  Monk  Schwartz’s 
pestle  through  the  ceiling:  what  will  the  last  do?  Achieve 
the  final  undisputed  prostration  of  Force  under  Thought,  of 
Animal  courage  under  Spiritual.  A simple  invention  it  was 
in  the  old-world  Grazier,  — sick  of  lugging  his  slow  Ox  about 
the  country  till  he  got  it  bartered  for  corn  or  oil,  — to  take  a 
piece  of  Leather,  and  thereon  scratch  or  stamp  the  mere  Figure 
of  an  Ox  (or  Pecus) ; put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  call  it  Pecunia , 
Money.  Yet  hereby  did  Barter  grow  Sale,  the  Leather  Money 
is  now  Golden  and  Paper,  and  all  miracles  have  been  out- 
miracled:  for  there  are  Rothschilds  and  English  National 
Debts  ; and  whoso  has  sixpence  is  sovereign  (to  the  length  of 
sixpence)  over  all  men;  commands  cooks  to  feed  him,  philoso- 
phers to  teach  him,  kings  to  mount  guard  over  him, — to  the 
length  of  sixpence.  — Clothes  too,  which  began  in  foolishest 
love  of  Ornament,  what  have  they  not  become ! Increased 
Security  and  pleasurable  Heat  soon  followed : but  what  of 
these?  Shame,  divine  Shame  ( Schaam , Modesty),  as  yet  a 
stranger  to  the  Anthropophagous  bosom,  arose  there  myste- 
riously under  Clothes ; a mystic  grove-encircled  shrine  for  the 
Holy  in  man.  Clothes  gave  us  individuality,  distinctions,  social 
polity ; Clothes  have  made  Men  of  us ; they  are  threatening  to 
make  Clothes-screens  of  us. 

“But,  on  the  whole,”  continues  our  eloquent  Professor, 
“Man  is  a Tool-using  Animal  ( Handthierendes  Thier).  Weak 
in  himself,  and  of  small  stature,  he  stands  on  a basis,  at 
most  for  the  flattest-soled,  of  some  half-square  foot,  inse- 
curely enough;  has  to  straddle  out  his  legs,  lest  the  very 
wind  supplant  him.  Feeblest  of  bipeds ! Three  quintals  are 
a crushing  load  for  him;  the  steer  of  the  meadow  tosses 
him  aloft,  like  a waste  rag.  Nevertheless  he  can  use  Tools, 


32 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


can  devise  Tools : with  these  the  granite  mountain  melts  into 
light  dust  before  him ; he  kneads  glowing  iron,  as  if  it  were 
soft  paste  ; seas  are  his  smooth  highway,  winds  and  fire  his 
unwearying  steeds.  Nowhere  do  you  find  him  without  Tools; 
without  Tools  he  is  nothing,  with  Tools  he  is  all.” 

Here  may  we  not,  for  a moment,  interrupt  the  stream  of 
Oratory  with  a remark,  that  this  Definition  of  the  Tool-using 
Animal  appears  to  us,  of  all  that  Animal-sort,  considerably 
the-  precisest  and  best  ? Man  is  called  a Laughing  Animal : 
but  do  not  the  apes  also  laugh,  or  attempt  to  do  it ; and  is 
the  manliest  man  the  greatest  and  oftenest  laugher  ? Teu- 
felsdroch  himself,  as  we  said,  laughed  only  once.  Still  less 
do  we  make  of  that  other  Drench  Definition  of  the  Cooking 
Animal;  which,  indeed,  for  rigorous  scientific  purposes,  is  as 
good  as  useless.  Can  a Tartar  be  said  to  cook,  when  he  only 
readies  his  steak  by  riding  on  it  ? Again,  what  Cookery  does 
the  Greenlander  use,  beyond  stowing  up  his  whale-blubber, 
as  a marmot,  in  the  like  case,  might  do  ? Or  how  would 
Monsieur  Ude  prosper  among  those  Orinoco  Indians  who, 
according  to  Humboldt,  lodge  in  crow-nests,  on  the  branches 
of  trees ; and,  for  half  the  year,  have  no  victuals  but  pipe-clay, 
the  whole  country  being  under  water  ? But,  on  the  other 
hand,  show  us  the  human  being,  of  any  period  or  climate, 
without  his  Tools : those  very  Caledonians,  as  we  saw,  had 
their  Flint-ball,  and  Thong  to  it,  such  as  no  brute  has  or 
can  have. 

“Man  is  a Tool-using  Animal,”  concludes  Teufelsdrockh 
in  his  abrupt  way;  “of  which  truth  Clothes  are  but  one 
example : and  surely  if  we  consider  the  interval  between  the 
first  wooden  Dibble  fashioned  by  man,  and  those  Liverpool 
Steam-carriages,  or  the  British  House  of  Commons,  we  shall 
note  what  progress  he  has  made.  He  digs  up  certain  black 
stones  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  and  says  to  them,  Trans- 
port me  and  this  luggage  at  the  rate  of  jive-and-thirty  miles  an 
hour ; and  they  do  it:  he  collects,  apparently  by  lot,  six 
hundred  and  fifty-eight  miscellaneous  individuals,  and  says 
to  them,  Make  this  nation  toil  for  us , bleed  for  us,  hunger  and 
sorrow  and  sin  for  us  ; and  they  do  it.” 


Chap.  VI. 


APRONS. 


33 


CHAPTER  VI. 

APRONS. 

One  of  the  most  unsatisfactory  Sections  in  the  whole  Volume 
is  that  on  Aprons.  What  though  stout  old  Gao,  the  Persian 
Blacksmith,  “ whose  Apron,  now  indeed  hidden  under  jewels, 
because  raised  in  revolt  which  proved  successful,  is  still  the 
royal  standard  of  that  country;”  what  though  John  Knox’s 
Daughter,  “who  threatened  Sovereign  Majesty  that  she  would 
catch  her  husband’s  head  in  her  Apron,  rather  than  he  should 
lie  and  be  a bishop ; ” what  though  the  Landgravine  Elizabeth, 
with  many  other  Apron  worthies, — figure  here?  An  idle 
wire-drawing  spirit,  sometimes  even  a tone  of  levity,  approach- 
ing to  conventional  satire,  is  too  clearly  discernible.  What,  for 
example,  are  we  to  make  of  such  sentences  as  the  following  ? 

“Aprons  are  Defences;  against  injury  to  cleanliness,  to 
safety,  to  modesty,  sometimes  to  roguery.  From  the  thin  slip 
of  notched  silk  (as  it  were,  the  emblem  and  beatified  ghost 
of  an  Apron),  which  some  highest-bred  housewife,  sitting  at 
Niirnberg  Work-boxes  and  Toy-boxes,  has  gracefully  fastened 
on;  to  the  thick-tanned  hide,  girt  round  him  with  thongs, 
wherein  the  Builder  builds,  and  at  evening  sticks  his  trowel ; 
or  to  those  jingling  sheet-iron  Aprons,  wherein  your  other- 
wise half-naked  Vulcans  hammer  and  smelt  in  their  smelt- 
furnace,  — is  there  not  range  enough  in  the  fashion  and  uses  of 
this  Vestment  ? How  much  has  been  concealed,  how  much 
has  been  defended  in  Aprons  ! Kay,  rightly  considered,  what 
is  your  whole  Military  and  Police  Establishment,  charged  at 
uncalculated  millions,  but  a huge  scarlet-colored,  iron-fastened 
Apron,  wherein  Society  works  (uneasily  enough) ; guarding 
itself  from  some  soil  and  stithy-sparks,  in  this  Devil’s-smithy 
( Teufels-schmiede)  of  a world  ? But  of  all  Aprons  the  most 
puzzling  to  me  hitherto  has  been  the  Episcopal  or  Cassock. 

VOL.  i.  3 


34 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Wherein  consists  the  usefulness  of  this  Apron  ? The  Overseer 
(Episcopus)  of  Souls,  I notice,  has  tucked  in  the  corner  of  it, 
as  if  his  day’s  work  were  done : what  does  he  shadow  forth 
thereby  ? ” &c.  &c. 

Or  again,  has  it  often  been  the  lot  of  our  readers  to  read 
such  stuff  as  we  shall  now  quote? 

"I  consider  those  printed  Paper  Aprons,  worn  by  the  Pa- 
risian Cooks,  as  a new  vent,  though  a slight  one,  for  Typog- 
raphy ; therefore  as  an  encouragement  to  modern  Literature, 
and  deserving  of  approval : nor  is  it  without  satisfaction  that 
I hear  of  a celebrated  London  Firm  having  in  view  to  intro- 
duce the  same  fashion,  with  important  extensions,  in  Eng- 
land.”— We  who  are  on  the  spot  hear  of  no  such  thing;  and 
indeed  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  hitherto  there  are  other 
vents  for  our  Literature,  exuberant  as  it  is.  — Teufelsdrockh 
continues : “ If  such  supply  of  printed  Paper  should  rise  so 
far  as  to  choke  up  the  highways  and  public  thoroughfares,  new 
means  must  of  necessity  be  had  recourse  to.  In  a world  exist- 
ing by  Industry,  we  grudge  to  employ  fire  as  a destroying 
element,  and  not  as  a creating  one.  However,  Heaven  is 
omnipotent,  and  will  find  us  an  outlet.  In  the  mean  while,  is 
it  not  beautiful  to -see  five  million  quintals  of  Rags  picked 
annually  from  the  Laystall ; and  annually,  after  being  macer- 
ated, hot-pressed,  printed  on,  and  sold,  — returned  thither; 
filling  so  many  hungry  mouths  by  the  way  ? Thus  is  the  Lay- 
stall,  especially  with  its  Rags  or  Clothes-rubbish,  the  grand 
Electric  Battery,  and  Fountainof-motion,  from  which  and  to 
which  the  Social  Activities  (like  vitreous  and  resinous  Elec- 
tricities) circulate,  in  larger  or  smaller  circles,  through  the 
mighty,  billowy,  storm-tost  chaos  of  Life,  which  they  keep 
alive ! ” — Such  passages  fill  us,  who  love  the  man,  and  partly 
esteem  him,  with  a very  mixed  feeling. 

Farther  down  we  meet  with  this : u The  J ournalists  are 
now  the  true  Kings  and  Clergy : henceforth  Historians,  unless 
they  are  fools,  must  write  not  of  Bourbon  Dynasties,  and 
Tudors  and  Hapsburgs ; but  of  Stamped  Broad-sheet  Dynas- 
ties, and  quite  new  successive  Karnes,  according  as  this  or 
the  other  Able  Editor,  or  Combination  of  Able  Editors,  gains 


Chap.  VII. 


MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL. 


85 


the  world’s  ear.  Of  the  British  Newspaper  Press,  perhaps  the 
most  important  of  all,  and  wonderful  enough  in  its  secret  con- 
stitution and  procedure,  a valuable  descriptive  History  already 
exists,  in  that  language,  under  the  title  of  Satan’s  Invisible, 
World  Displayed  ; which,  however,  by  search  in  all  the  Weiss- 
nichtwo  Libraries,  I have  not  yet  succeeded  in  procuring 
( yermochte  nicht  aufzutreiben ).” 

Thus  does  the  good  Homer  not  only  nod,  but  snore.  Thus 
does  Teufelsdrockh,  wandering  in  regions  where  he  had  little 
business,  confound  the  old  authentic  Presbyterian  Witchfinder 
with  a new,  spurious,  imaginary  Historian  of  the  Brittisehe 
Journalistik ; and  so  stumble  on  perhaps  the  most  egregious 
blunder  in  Modern  Literature ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MIS  CELL  ANEOUS-HISTORIC  AL. 

Happier  is  our  Professor,  and  more  purely  scientific  and 
historic,  when  he  reaches  the  Middle  Ages  in  Europe,  and 
down  to  the  end  of  the  Seventeenth  Century ; the  true  era 
of  extravagance  in  Costume.  It  is  here  that  the  Antiquary 
and  Student  of  Modes  comes  upon  his  richest  harvest.  Fan- 
tastic garbs,  beggaring  all  fancy  of  a Teniers  or  a Callot,  suc- 
ceed each  other,  like  monstes  devouring  monster  in  a Dream. 
The  whole  too  in  brief  authentic  strokes,  and  touched  not 
seldom  with  that  breath  of  genius  which  makes  even  old  rai- 
ment live.  Indeed,  so  learned,  precise,  graphical,  and  every 
way  interesting  have  we  found  these  Chapters,,  that  it  may 
be  thrown  out  as  a pertinent  question  for  parties  concerned, 
Whether  or  not  a good  English  Translation  thereof  might 
henceforth  be  profitably  incorporated  with  Mr.  Merrick’s  valu- 
able Work  On  Ancient  Armor?  Take,  by  way  of  example,  the 
following  sketch;  as  authority  for  which  Paulinus’s  Zeitkitr- 
zende  Lust  (ii.  678)  is,  with  seeming  confidence,  referred  to : 
“Did  we  behold  the  German  fashionable  dress  of  the  Eif- 


36 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


teenth  Century,  we  might  smile;  as  perhaps  those  bygone 
Germans,  were  they  to  rise  again,  and  see  our  haberdashery, 
would  cross  themselves,  and  invoke  the  Virgin.  But  happily 
no  bygone  German,  or  man,  rises  again ; thus  the  Present  is 
not  needlessly  trammelled  with  the  Past ; and  only  grows  out 
of  it,  like  a Tree,  whose  roots  are  not  intertangled  with  its 
branches,  but  lie  peaceably  underground.  Nay  it  is  very 
mournful,  yet  not  useless,  to  see  and  know,  how  the  Greatest 
and  Dearest,  in  a short. while,  would  find  his  place  quite  filled 
up  here,  and  no  room  for  him ; the  very  Napoleon,  the  very 
Byron,  in  some  seven  years,  has  become  obsolete,  and  were 
now  a foreigner  to  his  Europe.  Thus  is  the  Law  of  Progress 
secured ; and  in  Clothes,  as  in  all  other  external  things  what- 
soever, no  fashion  will  continue. 

“ Of  the  military  classes  in  those  old  times,  whose  buff-belts, 
complicated  chains  and  gorgets,  huge  churn-boots,  and  other 
riding  and  fighting  gear  have  been  bepainted  in  modern  Ro- 
mance, till  the  whole  has  acquired  somewhat  of  a sign-post 
character,  — I shall  here  say  nothing : the  civil  and  pacific 
classes,  less  touched  upon,  are  wonderful  enough  for  us. 

“ Rich  men,  I find,  have  Teusinke  [a  perhaps  untranslatable 
article]  ; also  a silver  girdle,  whereat  hang  little  bells ; so  that 
when  a man  walks,  it  is  with  continual  jingling.  Some  few, 
of  musical  turn,  have  a whole  chime  of  bells  ( Glockenspiel ) 
fastened  there;  which,  especially  in  sudden  whirls,  and  the 
other  accidents  of  walking,  has  a grateful  effect.  Observe  too 
how  fond  they  are  of  peaks,  and  Gothic-arch  intersections. 
The  male  world  wears  peaked  caps,  an  ell  long,  which  hang 
bobbing  over  the  side  ( schief ) : their  shoes  are  peaked  in  front, 
also  to  the  length  of  an  ell,  and  laced  on  the  side  with  tags ; 
even  the  wooden  shoes  have  their  ell-long  noses : some  also 
clap  bells  on  the  peak.  Further,  according  to  my  authority, 
the  men  have  breeches  without  seat  ( [ohne  Gesass ) : these  they 
fasten  peakwise  to  their  shirts;  and  the  long  round  doublet 
must  overlap  them. 

“Rich  maidens,  again,  flit  abroad  in  gowns  scolloped  out 
behind  and  before,  so  that  back  and  breast  are  almost  bare. 
Wives  of  quality,  on  the  other  hand,  have  train-gowns  four  or 


Chap.  VII. 


MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL. 


87 


live  ells  in  length ; which  trains  there  are  boys  to  carry.  Brave 
Cleepatras,  sailing  in  their  silk-cloth  Galley,  with  a Cupid  for 
steersman  ! Consider  their  welts,  a handbreadth  thick,  which 
waver  round  them  by  way  of  hem;  the  long  flood  of  silver 
buttons,  or  rather  silver  shells,  from  throat  to  shoe,  wherewith 
these  same  welt-gowns  are  buttoned.  The  maidens  have  bound 
silver  snoods  about  their  hair,  with  gold  spangles,  and  pendent 
flames  ( Flammen ),  that  is,  sparkling  hair-drops : but  of  their 
mother’s  head-gear  who  shall  speak  ? Neither  in  love  of  grace 
is  comfort  forgotten.  In  winter  weather  you  behold  the  whole 
fair  creation  (that  can  afford  it)  in  long  mantles,  with  skirts 
wide  below,  and,  for  hem,  not  one  but  two  sufficient  hand- 
broad  welts;  all  ending  atop  in  a thick  well-starched  Buff, 
some  twenty  inches  broad:  these  are  their  Buff-mantles 
(Kragenmantel) . 

“ As  yet  among  the  womankind  hoop-petticoats  are  not ; but 
the  men  have  doublets  of  fustian,  under  which  lie  multiple  ruffs 
of  cloth,  pasted  together  with  batter  (mit  Teig  zusammenge- 
kleistert),  which  create  protuberance  enough.  Thus  do  the  two 
sexes  vie  with  each  other  in  the  art  of  Decoration;  and  as 
usual  the  stronger  carries  it.” 

Our  Professor,  whether  he  have  humor  himself  or  not,  mani- 
fests a certain  feeling  of  the  Ludicrous,  a sly  observance  of  it, 
which,  could  emotion  of  any  kind  be  confidently  predicated  of 
so  still  a man,  we  might  call  a real  love.  None  of  those  bell- 
girdles,  bushel-breeches,  cornuted  shoes,  or  other  the  like  phe- 
nomena, of  which  the  History  of  Dress  offers  so  many,  escape 
him : more  especially  the  mischances,  or  striking  adventures, 
incident  to  the  wearers  of  such,  are  noticed  with  due  fidelity. 
Sir  Walter  Baleigh’s  fine  mantle,  which  he  spread  in  the  mud 
under  Queen  Elizabeth’s  feet,  appears  to  provoke  little  enthu- 
siasm in  him ; he  merely  asks,  Whether  at  that  period  the 
Maiden  Queen  “was  red-painted  on  the  nose,  and  white-painted 
on  the  cheeks,  as  her  tire-women,  when  from  spleen  and 
wrinkles  she  would  no  longer  look  in  any  glass,  were  wont  to 
serve  her  ” ? We  can  answer  that  Sir  Walter  knew  well  what 
he  was  doing,  and  had  the  Maiden  Queen  been  stuffed  parch- 
ment dyed  in  verdigris,  would  have  done  the  same. 

\ 

* 


38 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Thus  too,  treating  of  those  enormous  habiliments,  that 
were  not  only  slashed  and  gallooned,  but  artificially  swollen 
out  on  the  broader  parts  of  the  body,  by  introduction  of 
Bran,  — our  Professor  fails  not  to  comment  on  that  luckless 
Courtier,  who  having  seated  himself  on  a chair  with  some 
projecting  nail  on  it,  and  therefrom  rising,  to  pay  his  devoir 
on  the  entrance  of  Majesty^  instantaneously  emitted  several 
pecks  of  dry  wheat-dust : and  stood  there  diminished  to  a 
spindle,  his  galloons  and  slashes  dangling  sorrowful  and 
flabby  round  him.  Whereupon  the  Professor  publishes  this 
reflection : — 

“ By  what  strange  chances  do  we  live  in  History  ? Ero- 
stratus  by  a torch;  Milo  by  a bullock;  Henry  Darnley,  an 
unfledged  booby  and  bustard,  by  his  limbs ; most  Kings 
and  Queens  by  being  born  under  such  and  such  a bed- 
tester  ; Boileau  Despreaux  (according  to  Helvetius)  by  the 
peck  of  a turkey;  and  this  ill-starred  individual  by  a rent 
in  his  breeches,  — for  no  Memoirist  of  Kaiser  Otto’s  Court 
omits  him.  Vain  was  the  prayer  of  Themistocles  for  a 
talent  of  Forgetting:  my  Friends,  yield  cheerfully  to  Des- 
tiny, and  read  since  it  is  written.”  — Has  Teufelsdrockh  to 
be  put  in  mind  that,  nearly  related  to  the  impossible  talent 
of  Forgetting,  stands  that  talent  of  Silence,  which  even 
travelling  Englishmen  manifest  ? 

“ The  simplest  costume,”  observes  our  Professor,  “ which 
I anywhere  find  alluded  to  in  History,  is  that  used  as  regi- 
mental, by  Bolivar’s  Cavalry,  in  the  late  Colombian  wars. 
A square  Blanket,  twelve  feet  in  diagonal,  is  provided  (some 
were  wont  to  cut  off  the  corners,  and  make  it  circular):  in 
the  centre  a slit  is  effected  eighteen  inches  long;  through 
this  the  mother-naked  Trooper  introduces  his  head  and  neck ; 
and  so  rides  shielded  from  all  weather,  and  in  battle  from 
many  strokes  (for  he  rolls  it  about  his  left  arm) ; and  not 
only  dressed,  but  harnessed  and  draperied.” 

With  which  picture  of  a State  of  Nature,  affecting  by 
its  singularity,  and  Old-Roman  contempt  of  the  superfluous, 
we  shall  quit  this  part  of  our  subject. 


Chap.  VIII.  THE  WORLD  OUT  OF  CLOTHES. 


39 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  WORLD  OUT  OF  CLOTHES. 

If  in  the  Descriptive-Historical  portion  of  this  Volume,  Teu- 
felsdrockh,  discussing  merely  the  Werden  (Origin  and  succes- 
sive Improvement)  of  Clothes,  has  astonished  many  a reader, 
much  more  will  he  in  the  Speculative-Philosophical  portion, 
which  treats  of  their  Wirken,  or  Influences.  It  is  here  that 
the  present  Editor  first  feels  the  pressure  of  his  task ; for  here 
properly  the  higher  and  new  Philosophy  of  Clothes  commences : 
an  untried,  almost  inconceivable  region,  or  chaos  ; in  venturing 
upon  which,  how  difficult,  yet  how  unspeakably  important  is  it 
to  know  what  course,  of  survey  and  conquest,  is  the  true  one ; 
where  the  footing  is  firm  substance  and  will  bear  us,  where  it 
is  hollow,  or  mere  cloud,  and  may  engulf  us ! Teufelsdrockh 
undertakes  no  less  than  to  expound  the  moral,  political,  even 
religious  Influences  of  Clothes ; he  undertakes  to  make  mani- 
fest, in  its  thousand-fold  bearings,  this  grand  Proposition,  that 
Man’s  earthly  interests  “ are  all  hooked  and  buttoned  together, 
and  held  up,  by  Clothes.”  He  says  in  so  many  words,  “ Society 
is  founded  upon  Cloth;”  and  again,  “ Society  sails  through 
the  Infinitude  on  Cloth,  as  on  a Faust’s  Mantle,  or  rather  like 
the  Sheet  of  clean  and  unclean  beasts  in  the  Apostle’s  Dream ; 
and  without  such  Sheet  or  Mantle,  would  sink  to  endless 
depths,  or  mount  to  inane  limbos,  and  in  either  case  be  no 
more.”  * 

By  what  chains,  or  indeed  infinitely  complected  tissues,  of 
Meditation  this  grand  Theorem  is  here  unfolded,  and  innu- 
merable practical  Corollaries  are  drawn  therefrom,  it  were  per- 
haps a mad  ambition  to  attempt  exhibiting.  Our  Professor’s 
method  is  not,  in  any  case,  that  of  common  school  Logic,  where 
the  truths  all  stand  in  a row,  each  holding  by  the  skirts  of  the 
other;  but  at  best  that  of  practical  Reason,  proceeding  by 


40 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


large  Intuition  over  whole  systematic  groups  and  kingdoms ; 
whereby,  we  might  say,  a noble  complexity,  almost  like  that 
of  Nature,  reigns  in  his  Philosophy,  or  spiritual  Picture  of 
Nature : a mighty  maze,  yet,  as  faith  whispers,  not  without  a 
plan.  Nay  we  complained  above,  that  a certain  ignoble  com- 
plexity, what  we  must  call  mere  confusion,  was  also  discern- 
ible. Often,  also,  we  have  to  exclaim  : Would  to  Heaven  those 
same  Biographical  Documents  were  come  ! For  it  seems  as  if 
the  demonstration  lay  much  in  the  Author’s  individuality ; as 
if  it  were  not  Argument  that  had  taught  him,  but  Experience. 
At  present  it  is  only  in  local  glimpses,  and  by  significant  frag- 
ments, picked  often  at  wide-enough  intervals  from  the  original 
Volume,  and  carefully  collated,  that  we  can  hope  to  impart 
some  outline  or  foreshadow  of  this  Doctrine.  Readers  of  any 
intelligence  are  once  more  invited  to  favor  us  with  their  most 
concentrated  attention : let  these,  after  intense  consideration, 
and  not  till  then,  pronounce,  Whether  on  the  utmost  verge 
of  our  actual  horizon  there  is  not  a looming  as  of  Land;  a 
promise  of  new  Fortunate  Islands,  perhaps  whole  undiscovered 
Americas,  for  such  as  have  canvas  to  sail  thither  ? — As  exor- 
dium to  the  whole,  stand  here  the  following  long  citation : — 

“With  men  of  a speculative  turn,”  writes  Teufelsdrockh, 
“ there  come  seasons,  meditative,  sweet,  yet  awful  hours,  when 
in  wonder  and  fear  you  ask  yourself  that  unanswerable  ques- 
tion : Who  am  /;  the  thing  that  can  say  ‘ I ’ (das  Wesen  das 
sick  Ich  nennt)  ? The  world,  with  its  loud  trafficking,  retires 
into  the  distance ; and,  through  the  paper-hangings,  and  stone- 
walls, and  thick-plied  tissues  of  Commerce  and  Polity,  and  all 
the  living  and  lifeless  integuments  (of  Society  and  a Body), 
wherewith  your  Existence  sits  surrounded,  — the  sight  reaches 
forth  into  the  void  Deep,  and  you  are  alone  wfth  the  Universe, 
and  silently  commune  with  it,  as  one  mysterious  Presence  with 
another. 

“Who  am  I;  what  is  this  Me?  A Voice,  a Motion,  an 
Appearance ; — some  embodied,  visualized  Idea  in  the  Eternal 
Mind  ? Cogito , ergo  sum.  Alas,  poor  Cogitator,  this  takes 
us  but  a little  way.  Sure  enough,  I am;  and  lately  was  not:- 
but  Whence?  How?  Whereto?  The  answer  lies  around, 


Chap.  VIII.  THE  WORLD  OUT  OF  CLOTHES. 


41 


written  in  all  colors  and  motions,  uttered  in  all  tones  of  ju- 
bilee and  wail,  in  thousand-figured,  thousand-voiced,  harmo- 
nious Nature : but  where  is  the  cunning  eye  and  ear  to  whom 
that  God-written  Apocalypse  will  yield  articulate  meaning? 
We  sit  as  in  a boundless  Phantasmagoria  and  Dream-grotto ; 
boundless,  for  the  faintest  star,  the  remotest  century,  lies  not 
even  nearer  the  verge  thereof:  sounds  and  many-colored 
visions  flit  round  our  sense;  but  Him,  the  Unslumbering, 
whose  work  both  Dream  and  Dreamer  are,  we  see  not ; except 
in  rare  half-waking  moments,  suspect  not.  Creation,  says 
one,  lies  before  us,  like  a glorious  Rainbow;  but  the  Sun 
that  made  it  lies  behind  us,  hidden  from  us.  Then,  in  that 
strange  Dream,  how  we  clutch  at  shadows  as  if  they  were 
substances ; and  sleep  deepest  while  fancying  ourselves  most 
awake ! Which  of  your  Philosophical  Systems  is  other  than 
a dream-theorem ; a net  quotient,  confidently  given  out,  where 
divisor  and  dividend  are  both  unknown  ? What  are  all  your 
national  Wars,  with  their  Moscow  Retreats,  and  sanguinary 
hate-filled  Revolutions,  but  the  Somnambulism  of  uneasy 
Sleepers  ? This  Dreaming,  this  Somnambulism  is  what  we 
on  Earth  call  Life ; wherein  the  most  indeed  undoubtingly 
wander,  as  if  they  knew  right  hand  from  left ; yet  they  only 
are  wise  who  know  that  they  know  nothing. 

“ Pity  that  all  Metaphysics  had  hitherto  proved  so  inexpres- 
sibly unproductive!  The  secret  of  Man’s  Being  is  still  like 
the  Sphinx’s  secret : a riddle  that  he  cannot  rede ; and  for 
ignorance  of  which  he  suffers  death,  the  worst  death,  a spirit- 
ual. What  are  your  Axioms,  and  Categories,  and  Systems, 
and  Aphorisms  ? Words,  words.  High  Air-castles  are  cun- 
ningly built  of  Words,  the  Words  well  bedded  also  in  good 
Logic-mortar ; . wherein,  however,  no  Knowledge  will  come 
to  lodge.  The  whole  is  greater  than  the  part:  how  exceed- 
ingly true ! Nature  abhors  a vacuum : how  exceedingly  false 
and  calumnious ! Again,  Nothing . can  act  but  where  it  is : 
with  all  my  heart ; only,  where  is  it  ? Be  not  the  slave  of 
Words : is  not  the  Distant,  the  Dead,  while  I love  it,  and 
long  for  it,  and  mourn  for  it,  Here,  in  the  genuine  sense,  as 
truly  as  the  floor  I stand  on  ? But  that  same  Where,  with 


42 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


its  brother  When,  are  from  the  first  the  master-colors  of  our 
Dream-grotto;  say  rather,  the  Canvas  (the  warp  and  woof 
thereof)  whereon  all  our  Dreams  and  Life-visions  are  painted. 
Nevertheless,  has  not  a deeper  meditation  taught  certain  of 
every  climate  and  age,  that  the  Where  and  When,  so  myste- 
riously inseparable  from  all  our  thoughts,  are  but  superficial 
terrestrial  adhesions  to  thought;  that  the  Seer  may  discern 
them  where  they  mount  up  out  of  the  celestial  Everywhere 
and  Eorever  : have  not  all  nations  conceived  their  God  as 
Omnipresent  and  Eternal;  as  existing  in  a universal  Here, 
an  everlasting  Now  ? Think  well,  thou  too  wilt  find  that 
Space  is  but  a mode  of  our  human  Sense,  so  likewise  Time ; 
there  is  no  Space  and  no  Time : We  are  — we  know  not  what ; 
— light-sparkles  floating  in  the  ether  of  Deity ! 

“So  that  this  so  solid-seeming  World,  after  all,  were  but 
an  air-image,  our  Me  the  only  reality : and  Nature,  with  its 
thousand-fold  production  and  destruction,  but  the  reflex  of 
our  own  inward  Force,  the  ‘ phantasy  of  our  Dream ; ’ or  what 
the  Earth-Spirit  in  Faust  names  it,  the , livinq  visible  Garment 
of  God:  — 

“ ‘ In  Being’s  floods,  in  Action’s  storm, 

I walk  and  work,  above,  beneath, 

Work  and  weave  in  endless  motion  l 
Birth  and  Death, 

An  infinite  ocean ; 

A seizing  and  giving 
The  fire  of  Living : 

’T  is  thus  at  the  roaring  Loom  of  Time  I ply, 

And  weave  for  God  the  Garment  thou  seest  Him  by.’ 

Of  twenty  millions  that  have  read  and  spouted  this  thunder- 
speech  of  the  Erdgeist,  are  there  yet  twenty  units  of  us  that 
have  learned  the  meaning  thereof  ? 

“ It  was  in  some  such  mood,  when  wearied  and  fordone  with 
these  high  speculations,  that  I first  came  upon  the  question  of 
Clothes.  Strange  enough,  it  strikes  me,  is  this  same  fact  of 
there  being  Tailors  and  Tailored.  The  Horse  I ride  has  his 
own  whole  fell : strip  him  of  the  girths  and  flaps  and  extra- 
neous tags  I have  fastened  round  him,  and  the  noble  creature  is 
his  own  sempster  and  weaver  and  spinner ; nay  his  own  boot- 


Chap.  VIII  THE  WORLD  OUT  OF  CLOTHES. 


43 


maker,  jeweller,  and  man-milliner ; lie  bounds  free  through  the 
valleys,  with  a perennial  rain-proof  court-suit  on  his  body ; 
wherein  warmth  and  easiness  of  fit  have  reached  perfection ; 
nay,  the  graces  also  have  been  considered,  and  frills  and 
fringes,  with  gay  variety  of  color,  featly  appended,  and  ever  in 
the  right  place,  are  not  wanting.  While  I — good  Heaven  ! — 
have  thatched  myself  over  with  the  dead  fleeces  of  sheep,  the 
bark  of  vegetables,  the  entrails  of  worms,  the  hides  of  oxen  or 
seals,  the  felt  of  furred  beasts  ; and  walk  abroad  a moving  Rag- 
screen,  overheaped  with  shreds  and  tatters  raked  from  the 
Charnel-house  of  Nature,  where  they  would  have  rotted,  to  rot 
on  me  more  slowly  ! Day  after  day,  I must  thatch  myself 
anew;  day  after  day,  this  despicable  thatch  must  lose  some 
film  of  its  thickness ; ^ome  film  of  it,  frayed  away  by  tear  and 
wear,  must  be  brushed  off  into  the  Ashpit,  into  the  Laystall ; 
till  by  degrees  the  whole  has  been  brushed  thither,  and  I,  the 
dust-making,  patent  Rat-grinder,  get  new  material  to  grind 
down.  0 subter-brutish ! vile ! most  vile ! For  have  not  I 
too  a compact  all-enclosing  Skin,  whiter  or  dingier  ? Am 
I a botched  mass  of  tailors’  and  cobblers’  shreds,  then ; or  a 
tightly  articulated,  homogeneous  little  Figure,  automatic,  nay 
alive  ? 

“ Strange  enough  how  creatures  of  the  human-kind  shut 
their  eyes  to  plainest  facts ; and  by  the  mere  inertia  of 
Oblivion  and  Stupidity,  live  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  Wonders 
and  Terrors.  But  indeed  man  is,  and  was  always,  a blockhead 
and  dullard ; much  readier  to  feel  and  digest,  than  to  think 
and  consider.  Prejudice,  which  he  pretends  to  hate,  is  his  abso- 
lute lawgiver ; mere  use-and-wont  everywhere  leads  him  by  the 
nose ; thus  let  but  a Rising  of  the  Sun,  let  but  a Creation  of 
the  World  happen  twice,  and  it  ceases  to  be  marvellous,  to 
be  noteworthy,  or  noticeable.  Perhaps  not  once  in  a lifetime 
does  it  occur  to  your  ordinary  biped,  of  any  Country  or  genera- 
tion, be  he  gold-mantled  Prince  or*  russet-jerkin ed  Peasant, 
that  his  Vestments  and  his  Self  are  not  one  and  indivisible ; 
that  he  is  naked,  without  vestments,  till  he  buy  or  steal  such, 
and  by  forethought  sew  and  button  them. 

“ For  my  own  part,  these  considerations,  of  our  Clothes- 


44 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


thatch,  and  how,  reaching  inwards  even  to  our  heart  of  hearts, 
it  tailorizes  and  demoralizes  us,  fill  me  with  a certain  horror  at 
myself  and  mankind ; almost  as  one  feels  at  those  Dutch  Cows, 
which,  during  the  wet  season,  you  see  grazing  deliberately  with 
jackets  and  petticoats  (of  striped  sacking),  in  the  meadows  of 
Gouda.  Nevertheless  there  is  something  great  in  the  moment 
when  a man  first  strips  himself  of  adventitious  wrappages ; 
and  sees  indeed  that  he  is  naked,  and,  as  Swift  has  it,  ‘a 
forked  straddling  animal  with  bandy  legs  ; ’ yet  also  a Spirit, 
and  unutterable  Mystery  of  Mysteries.” 


CHAPTER  IX.  . 

ADAMITISM. 

Let  no  courteous  reader  take  offence  at  the  opinions  broached 
in  the  conclusion  of  the  last  Chapter.  The  Editor  himself, 
on  first  glancing  over  that  singular  passage,  was  inclined  to 
exclaim : What,  have  we  got  not  only  a Sansculottist,  but  an 
enemy  to  Clothes  in  the  abstract  ? A new  Adamite,  in  this 
century,  which  flatters  itself  that  it  is  the  Nineteenth,  and 
destructive  both  to  Superstition  and  Enthusiasm  ? 

Consider,  thou  foolish  Teufelsdrockh,  what  benefits  unspeak- 
able all  ages  and  sexes  derive  from  Clothes.  For  example, 
1/  when  thou  thyself,  a watery,  pulpy,  slobbery  freshman  and 
new-comer  in  this  Planet,  sattest  muling  and  puking  in  thy 
nurse’s  arms ; sucking  thy  coral,  and  looking  forth  into  the 
world  in  the  blankest  manner,  what  hadst  thou  been  without 
thy  blankets,  and  bibs,  and  other  nameless  hulls  ? A terror  to 
thyself  and  mankind  ! Or  hast  thou  forgotten  the  day  when 
thou  first  receivedst  breeches,  and  thy  long  clothes  became 
short  ? The  village  where  thou  livedst  was  all  apprised  of  the 
fact ; -and  neighbor  after  neighbor  kissed  thy  pudding-cheek, 
and  gave  thee,  as  handsel,  silver  or  copper  coins,  on  that  the 
first  gala-day  of  thy  existence.  Again,  wert  not  thou,  at  one 


Chap.  IX. 


ADAMITISM. 


45 


period  of  life,  a Buck,  or  Blood,  or  Macaroni,  or  Incroy  able,  or 
Dandy,  or  by  whatever  name,  according  to  year  and  place,  such 
phenomenon  is  distinguished  ? In  that  one  word  lie  included 
mysterious  volumes.  Hay,  now  when  the  reign  of  folly  is 
over,  or  altered,  and  thy  clothes  are  not  for  triumph  but  for 
defence,  hast  thou  always  worn  them  perforce,  and  as  a con- 
sequence of  Man’s  Ball;  never  rejoiced  in  them  as  in  a warm 
movable  House,  a Body  round  thy  Body,  wherein  that  strange 
Thee  of  thine  sat  snug,  defying  all  variations  of  Climate  ? 
Girt  with  thick  double-milled  kerseys ; half  buried  under 
shawls  and  broadbrims,  and  overalls  and  mudboots,  thy  very 
fingers  cased  in  doeskin  and  mittens,  thou  hast  bestrode  that 
“ Horse  I ride ; ” and,  though  it  were  in  wild  winter,  dashed 
through  the  world,  glorying  in  it  as  if  thou  wert  its  lord.  In 
vain  did  the  sleet  beat  round  thy  temples ; it  lighted  only 
on  thy  impenetrable,  felted  or  woven,  case  of  wool.  In  vain 
did  the  winds  howl,  — forests  sounding  and  creaking,  deep 
calling  unto  deep,  — and  the  storms  heap  themselves  together 
into  One  huge  Arctic  whirlpool:  thou  flewest  through  the 
middle  thereof,  striking  fire  from  the  highway ; wild  music 
hummed  in  thy  ears,  thou  too  wert  as  a “ sailor  of  the  air ; ” 
the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crash  of  worlds  was  thy  element 
and  propitiously  wafting  tide.  Without  Clothes,  without  bit 
or  saddle,  what  hadst  thou  been ; what  had  thy  fleet  quadruped 
been  ? — Nature  is  good,  but  she  is  not  the  best : here  truly 
was  the  victory  of  Art  over  Nature.  A thunderbolt  indeed 
might  have  pierced  thee ; all  short  of  this  thou  couldst  defy. 

Or,  cries  the  courteous  reader,  has  your  Teufelsdrockh  for- 
gotten what  he  said  lately  about  “ Aboriginal  Savages,”  and 
their  “ condition  miserable  indeed”  ? Would  he  have  all  this 
unsaid ; and  us  betake  ourselves  again  to  the  “ matted  cloak,” 
and  go  sheeted  in  a “ thick  natural  fell  ” ? 

Nowise,  courteous  reader ! The  Professor  knows  full  well 
what  he  is  saying ; and  both  thou  and  we,  in  our  haste,  do  him 
wrong.  If  Clothes,  in  these  times,  “so  tailorize  and  demoralize 
us,”  have  they  no  redeeming  value ; can  they  not  be  altered  to 
serve  better ; must  they  of  necessity  be  thrown  to  the  dogs  ? 
The  truth  is,  Teufelsdrockh,  though  a Sansculottist,  is  no 


46 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Adamite;  and  much  perhaps  as  he  might  wish  to  go  forth 
before  this  degenerate  age  “ as  a Sign/’  would  nowise  wish  to 
do  it,  as  those  old  Adamites  did,  in  a state  of  Nakedness.  The 
utility  of  Clothes  is  altogether  apparent  to  him : nay  perhaps 
he  has  an  insight  into  their  more  recondite,  and  almost  mystic 
qualities,  what  we  might  call  the  omnipotent  virtue  of  Clothes, 
such  as  was  never  before  vouchsafed  to  any  man.  For 
example : — 

“ You  see  two  individuals,”  he  writes,  “one  dressed  in  fine 
Red,  the  other  in  coarse  threadbare  Blue : Red  says  to  Blue, 
CBe  hanged  and  anatomized ; 9 Blue  hears  with  a shudder,  and 
(0  wonder  of  wonders !)  marches  sorrowfully  to  the  gallows ; 
is  there  noosed  up,  vibrates  his  hour,  and  the  surgeons  dissect 
him,  and  fit  his  bones  into  a skeleton  for  medical  purposes. 
How  is  this ; or  what  make  ye  of  your  Nothing  can  act  but 
where  it  is  ? Red  has  no  physical  hold  of  Blue,  no  clutch  of 
him,  is  nowise  in  contact  with  him : neither  are  those  minister- 
ing Sheriffs  and  Lord-Lieutenants  and  Hangmen  and  Tipstaves 
so  related  to  commanding  Red,  that  he  can  tug  them  hither 
and  thither;  but  each  stands  distinct  within  his  own  skin. 
Nevertheless,  as  it  is  spoken,  so  is  it  done : the  articulated 
Word  sets  all  hands  in  Action ; and  Rope  and  Improved-drop 
perform  their  work. 

“ Thinking  reader,  the  reason  seems  to  me  twofold : First, 
that  Man  is  a Spirit,  and  bound  by  invisible  bonds  to  All  Men  ; 
secondly,  that  he  wears  Clothes , which  are  the  visible  emblems 
of  that  fact.  Has  not  your  Red  hanging-individual  a horse- 
hair wig,  squirrel-skins,  and  a plush-gown  ; whereby  all  mortals 
know  that  he  is  a Judge  ? — Society,  which  the  more  I think 
of  it  astonishes  me  the  more,  is  founded  upon  Cloth. 

“Often  in  my  atrabiliar  moods,  when  I read  of  pompous 
ceremonials,  Frankfort  Coronations,  Royal  Drawing-rooms, 
Levees,  Couchees ; and  how  the  ushers  and  macers  and 
pursuivants  are  all  in  waiting;  how  Duke  this  is  presented 
by  Archduke  that,  and  Colonel  A by  General  B,  and  innu- 
merable Bishops,  Admirals,  and  miscellaneous  Function- 
aries, are  advancing  gallantly  to  the  Anointed  Presence; 
and  I strive,  in  my  remote  privacy,  to  form  a clear  picture 


Chap.  IX. 


ADAMITISM. 


47 


of  that  solemnity,  — on  a sudden,  as  by  some  enchanter’s 
wand,  the  — shall  I speak  it  ? — the  Clothes  fly  off  the  whole 
dramatic  corps ; and  Dukes,  Grandees,  Bishops,  Generals, 
Anointed  Presence  itself,  every  mother’s  son  of  them,  stand 
straddling  there,  not  a shirt  on  them  ; and  I know  not 
whether  to  laugh  or  weep*  This  physical  or  psychical 
infirmity,  in  which  perhaps  I am  not  singular,  I have,  after 
hesitation,  thought  right  to  publish,  for  the  solace  of  those 
afflicted  with  the  like.” 

Would  to  Heaven,  say  we,  thou  hadst  thought  right  to 
keep  it  secret ! Who  is  there  now  that  can  read  the  five 
columns  of  Presentations  in  his  Morning  Newspaper  without 
a shudder  ? Hypochondriac  men,  and  all  men  are  to  a cer- 
tain extent  hypochondriac,  should  be  more  gently  treated. 
With  what  readiness  our  fancy,  in  this  shattered  state  of 
the  nerves,  follows  out  the  consequences  which  Teufels- 
drockh,  with  a devilish  coolness,  goes  on  to  draw : — 

“What  would  Majesty  do,  could  such  an  accident  befall 
in  reality ; should  the  buttons  all  simultaneously  start,  and 
the  solid  wool  evaporate,  in  very  Deed,  as  here  in  Dream  ? 
Ach  Gott ! How  each  skulks  into  the  nearest  hiding-place ; 
their  high  State  Tragedy  (Haupt-  und  Staats-Action)  becomes 
a Pickleherring-Farce  to  weep  at,  which  is  the  worst  kind 
of  Farce ; the  tables  (according  to  Horace),  and  with  them, 
the  whole  fabric  of  Government,  Legislation,  Property, 
Police,  and  Civilized  Society,  are  dissolved , in  wails  and 
howls.” 

Lives  the  man  that  can  figure  a naked  Duke  of  Windle- 
straw  addressing  a naked  House  of  Lords  ? Imagination, 
choked  as  in  mephitic  air,  recoils  on  itself,  and  will  not 
forward  with  the  picture.  The  Woolsack,  the  Ministerial, 
the  Opposition  Benches  — infandum!  infandum!  And  yet 
why  is  the  thing  impossible  ? Was  not  every  soul,  or  rather 
every  body,  of  these  Guardians  of  our  Liberties,  naked,  or 
nearly  so,  last  night ; “ a forked  Badish  with  a head  fantas- 
tically carved  ” ? And  why  might  he  not,  did  our  stern  fate 
so  order  it,  walk  out  to  St.  Stephen’s,  as  well  as  into  bed, 
in  that  no-fashion;  and  there,  with  other  similar  Radishes, 


48 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


hold  a Bed  of  Justice  ? “ Solace  of  those  afflicted  with 

the  like  ! ” Unhappy  Teufelsdrockh,  had  man  ever  such  a 
“ physical  or  psychical  infirmity  ” before  ? And  now  how 
many,  perhaps,  may  thy  unparalleled  confession  (which  we, 
even  to  the  sounder  British  world,  and  goaded  on  by  Critical 
and  Biographical  duty,  grudge  to  reimpart)  incurably  infect 
therewith  ! Art  thou  the  malignest  of  Sansculottists,  or  only 
the  maddest  ? 

u It  will  remain  to  be  examined,”  adds  the  inexorable 
Teufelsdrockh,  “in  how  far  the  Scarecrow,  as  a Clothed 
Person,  is  not  also  entitled  to  benefit  of  clergy,  and  English 
trial  by  jury:  nay  perhaps,  considering  his  high  function 
(for  is  not  he  too  a Defender  of  Property,  and  Sovereign 
armed  with  the  terrors  of  the  Law  ? ),  to  a certain  royal 
Immunity  and  Inviolability;  which,  however,  misers  and 
the  meaner  class  of  persons  are  not  always  voluntarily  dis- 
posed to  grant  him.” 

“0  my  Friends,  we  are  [in  Yorick  Sterne’s  words]  but  as 
‘ turkeys  driven,  with  a stick  and  red  clout,  to  the  market : ’ 
or  if  some  drivers,  as  they  do  in  Norfolk,  take  a dried  bladder 
and  put  peas  in  it,  the  rattle  thereof  terrifies  the  boldest ! ” 


CHAPTER  X. 

Eure  reason. 

It  must  now  be  apparent  enough  that  our  Professor,  as  above 
hinted,  is  a speculative  Radical,  and  of  the  very  darkest  tinge  ; 
acknowledging,  for  most  part,  in  the  solemnities  and  para- 
phernalia of  civilized  Life,  which  we  make  so  much  of,  nothing 
but  so  many  Cloth-rags,  turkey-poles,  and  “ bladders  with  dried 
peas.”  To  linger  among  such  speculations,  longer  than  mere 
Science  requires,  a discerning  public  can  have  no  wish.  For 
our  purposes  the  simple  fact  that  such  a Naked  World  is 
possible*  nay  actually  exists  (under  the  Clothed  one),  will  be 


Chap.  X. 


PUKE  REASON. 


49 


sufficent.  Much,  therefore,  we  omit  about  “ Kings  wrestling 
naked  on  the  green  with  Carmen,”  and  the  Kings  being  thrown : 
“ dissect  them  with  scalpels,”  says  Teufelsdrockh ; “ the  same 
viscera,  tissues,  livers,  lights,  and  other  life-tackle,  are  there  : 
examine  their  spiritual  mechanism;  the  same  great  Need,  great 
Greed,  and  little  Faculty ; nay  ten  to  one  but  the  Carman,  who 
understands  draught-cattle,  the  rimming  of  wheels,  something 
of  the  laws  of  unstable  and  stable  equilibrium,  with  other 
branches  of  wagon-science,  and  has  actually  put  forth  his  hand 
and  operated  on  Nature,  is  the  more  cunningly  gifted  of  the 
two.  Whence,  then,  their  so  unspeakable  difference  ? From 
Clothes.”  Much  also  we  shall  omit  about  confusion  of  Ranks, 
and  Joan  and  My  Lady,  and  how  it  would  be  everywhere 
“Hail  fellow  well  met,”  and  Chaos  were  come  again:  all  which 
to  any  one  that  has  once  fairly  pictured  out  the  grand  mother- 
idea,  Society  in  a state  of  Nakedness , will  spontaneously 
suggest  itself.  Should  some  sceptical  individual  still  entertain 
doubts  whether  in  a world  without  Clothes,  the  smallest  Polite- 
ness, Polity,  or  even  Police,  could  exist,  let  him  turn  to  the 
original  Volume,  and  view  there  the  boundless  Serbonian  Bog 
of  Sansculottism,  stretching  sour  and  pestilential : over  which 
we  have  lightly  flown ; where  not  only  whole  armies  but  whole 
nations  might  sink ! If  indeed  the  following  argument,  in  its 
brief  riveting  emphasis,  be  not  of  itself  incontrovertible  and 
final : — * 

“ Are  we  Opossums ; have  we  natural  Pouches,  like  the 
Kangaroo  ? Or  how,  without  Clothes,  could  we  possess  the 
master-organ,  soul’s  seat,  and  true  pineal  gland  of  the  Body 
Social : I mean,  a Purse  ? ” 

Nevertheless  it  is  impossible  to  hate  Professor  Teufelsdrockh ; 
at  worst,  one  knows  not  whether  to  hate  or  to  love  him.  For 
though,  in  looking  at  the  fair  tapestry  of  human  Life,  with  its 
royal  and  even  sacred  figures,  he  dwells  not  on  the  obverse 
alone,  but  here  chiefly  on  the  reverse ; and  indeed  turns  out 
the  rough  seams,  tatters,  and  manifold  thrums  of  that  unsightly 
wrong-side,  with  an  almost  diabolic  patience  and  indifference, 
which  must  have  sunk  him  in  the  estimation  of  most  readers, 
— there  is  that  within  which  unspeakably  distinguishes  him 
VOL.  i.  4 


50 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


from  all  other  past  and  present  Sansculottists.  The  grand 
unparalleled  peculiarity  of  Teufelsdrockh  is,  that  with  all  this 
Descendentalism,  he  combines  a Transcendentalism,  no  less 
superlative ; whereby  if  on  the  one  hand  he  degrade  man  below 
most  animals,  except  those  jacketed  Gouda  Cows,  he,  on  the 
other,  exalts  him  beyond  the  visible  Heavens,  almost  to  an 
equality  with  the  Gods. 

“ To  the  eye  of  vulgar  Logic,”  says  he,  “ what  is  man  ? An 
omnivorous  Biped  that  wears  Breeches.  To  the  eye  of  Pure 
Reason  what  is  he  ? A Soul,  a Spirit,  and  divine  Apparition. 
Round  his  mysterious  Me,  there  lies,  under  all  those  wool-rags, 
a Garment  of  Flesh  (or  of  Senses),  contextured  in  the  Loom  of 
Heaven ; whereby  he  is  revealed  to  his  like,  and  dwells  with 
them  in  Union  and  Division  ; and  sees  and  fashions  for  him- 
self a Universe,  with  azure  Starry  Spaces,  and  long  Thousands 
of  Years.  Deep-hidden  is  he  under  that  strange  Garment; 
amid  Sounds  and  Colors  and  Forms,  as  it  wrere,  swathed  yin, 
and  inextricably  over-shrouded : yet  it  is  sky-woven,  and  worthy 
of  a God.  Stands  he  not  thereby  in  the  centre  of  Immensities, 
in  the  conflux  of  Eternities  ? He  feels ; power  has  been  given 
him  to  know,  to  believe ; nay  does  not  the  spirit  of  Love,  free 
in  its  celestial  primeval  brightness,  even  here,  though  but  for 
moments,  look  through?  Well  said  Saint  Chrysostom,  with 
his  lips  of  gold,  ‘ the  true  Shekinah  is  Man : ’ where  else  is 
the  God’s-Peesence  manifested  not  to  our  eyes  only,  but  to 
our  hearts,  as  in  our  fellow-man  ? ” 

In  such  passages,  unhappily  too  rare,  the  high  Platonic 
Mysticism  of  our  Author,  which  is  perhaps  the  fundamental 
element  of  his  nature,  bursts  forth,  as  it  were,  in  full  flood : 
and,  through  all  the  vapor  and  tarnish  of  what  is  often  so  per- 
verse, so  mean  in  his  exterior  and  environment,  we  seem  to 
look  into  a whole  inward  Sea  of  Light  and  Love ; — though, 
alas,  the  grim  coppery  clouds  soon  roll  together  again,  and  hide 
it  from  view. 

Such  tendency  to  Mysticism  is  everywhere  traceable  in  this 
man ; and  indeed,  to  attentive  readers,  must  have  been  long 
ago  apparent.  Nothing  that  he  sees  but  has  more  than  a com- 
mon meaning,  but  has  two  meanings : thus,  if  in  the  highest 


Chap.  X. 


PURE  REASON. 


51 


Imperial  Sceptre  and  Charlemagne-Mantle,  as  well  as  in  the 
poorest  Ox-goad  and  Gypsy-Blanket,  he  finds  Prose,  Decay, 
Contemptibility ; there  is  in  each  sort  Poetry  also,  and  a 
reverend  Worth.  For  Matter,  were  it  never  so  despicable,  is 
Spirit,  the  manifestation  of  Spirit : were  it  never  so  honorable, 
can  it  be  more  ? The  thing  Visible,  nay  the  thing  Imagined, 
the  thing  in  any  way  conceived  as  Visible,  what  is  it  but  a 
Garment,  a Clothing  of  the  higher,  celestial  Invisible,  “un- 
imaginable, formless,  dark  with  excess  of  bright”?  Under 
which  point  of  view  the  following  passage,  so  strange  in  pur- 
port, so  strange  in  phrase,  seems  characteristic  enough : — 

“ The  beginning  of  all  Wisdom  is  to  look  fixedly  on  Clothes, 
or  even  with  armed  eyesight,  till  they  become  transparent. 
‘The  Philosopher/  says  the  wisest  of  this  age,  ‘must  sta- 
tion himself  in  the  middle : 5 how  true ! The  Philosopher 
is  he  to  whom  the  Highest  has  descended,  and  the  Low- 
est has  mounted  up;  who  is  the  equal  and  kindly  brother 
of  all. 

“ Shall  we  tremble  before  clothwebs  and  cobwebs,  whether 
woven  in  Arkwright  looms,  or  by  the  silent  Arachnes  that 
weave  unrestingly  in  our  Imagination?  Or,  on  the  other 
hand,  what  is  there  that  we  cannot  love ; since  all  was  created 
by  God  ? 

“ Happy  he  who  can  look  through  the  Clothes  of  a Man 
(the  woollen,  and  fleshly,  and  official  Bank-paper  and  State- 
paper  Clothes)  into  the  Man  himself ; and  discern,  it  may  be, 
in  this  or  the  other  Dread  Potentate,  a more  or  less  incompe- 
tent Digestive-apparatus;  yet  also  an  inscrutable  venerable 
Mystery,  in  the  meanest  Tinker  that  sees  with  eyes ! ” 

For  the  rest,  as  is  natural  to  a man  of  this  kind,  he  deals 
much  in  the  feeling  of  Wonder;  insists  on  the  necessity  and 
high  worth  of  universal  Wonder.;  which  he  holds  to  be  the 
only  reasonable  temper  for  the  denizen  of  so  singular  a Planet 
as  ours.  “Wonder,”  says  he,  “is  the  basis  of  Worship:  the 
reign  of  wonder  is  perennial,  indestructible  in  Man ; only  at 
certain  stages  (as  the  present),  it  is,  for  some  short  season,  a 
reign  in  partibus  infidelium .”  That  progress  of  Science,  which 
is  to  destroy  Wonder,  and  in  its  stead  substitute  Mensuration 


52 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  1. 


and  Numeration,  finds  small  favor  with  Teufelsdrockh,  much 
as  he  otherwise  venerates  these  two  latter  processes. 

“Shall  your  Science,”  exclaims  he,  “'proceed  in  the  small 
chink-lighted,  or  even  oil-lighted,  underground  workshop  of 
Logic  alone;  and  man’s  mind  become  an  Arithmetical  Mill, 
whereof  Memory  is  the  Hopper,  and  mere  Tables  of  Sines  and 
Tangents,  Codification,  and  Treatises  of  what  you  call  Political 
'Economy,  are  the  Meal  ? And  what  is  that  Science,  which  the 
scientific  head  alone,  were  it  screwed  off,  and  (like  the  Doctor’s 
in  the  Arabian  Tale)  set  in  a basin  to  keep  it  alive,  could 
prosecute  without  shadow  of  a heart,  — but  one  other  of  the 
mechanical  and  menial  handicrafts,  for  which  the  Scientific 
Head  (having  a Soul  in  it)  is  too  noble  an  organ  ? I mean 
that  Thought  without  Reverence  is  barren,  perhaps  poisonous  ; 
at  best,  dies  like  cookery  with  the  day  that  called  it  forth ; 
does  not  live,  like  sowing,  in  successive  tilths  and  wider- 
spreading  harvests,  bringing  food  and  plenteous  increase  to 
all  Time.” 

In  such  wise  does  Teufelsdrockh  deal  hits,  harder  or  softer, 
according  to  ability ; yet  ever,  as  we  would  fain  persuade  our- 
selves, with  charitable  intent.  Above  all,  that  class  of  “ Logic- 
choppers,  and  treble-pipe  Scoffers,  and  professed  Enemies  to 
Wonder;  who,  in  these  days,  so  numerously  patrol  as  night- 
constables  about  the  Mechanics’  Institute  of  Science,  and 
cackle,  like  true  Old-Roman  geese  and  goslings  round  their 
Capitol,  on  any  alarm,  or  on  none ; nay  who  often,  as  illumi- 
nated Sceptics,  walk  abroad  into  peaceable  society,  in  full  day- 
light, with  rattle  and  lantern,  and  insist  on  guiding  you  and 
guarding  you  therewith,  though  the  Sun  is  shining,  and  the 
street  populous  with  mere  justice-loving  men:”  that  whole 
class  is  inexpressibly  wearisome  to  him.  Hear  with  what 
uncommon  animation  he  perorates : — 

“The  man  who  cannot  wonder,  who  does  not  habitually 
wonder  (arrd  worship),  were  he  President  of  innumerable 
Royal  Societies,  and  carried  the  whole  Mecanique  Celeste 
and  HegeVs  Philosophy , and  the  epitome  of  all  Laboratories 
and  Observatories  with  their  results,  in  his  single  head, — 
is  but  a Pair  of  Spectacles  behind  which  there  is  no  Eye. 


Chap.  XI.  PROSPECTIVE.  53 

Let  those  who  have 'Eyes  look  through  him,  then  he  may  be 
useful. 

“Thou  wilt  have  no  Mystery  and  Mysticism;  wilt  walk 
through  thy  world  by  the  sunshine  of  what  thou  callest  Truth, 
or  even  by  the  hand-lamp  of  what  I call  Attorney-Logic  ; and 
‘ explain  ’ all,  ‘ account 5 for  all,  or  believe  nothing  of  it  ? 
Nay,  thou  wilt  attempt  laughter;  whoso  recognizes  the  un- 
fathomable, all-pervading  domain  of  Mystery,  which  is  every- 
where under  our  feet  and  among  our  hands ; to  whom  the 
Universe  is  an  Oracle  and  Temple,  as  well  as  a Kitchen  and 
Cattle-stall,  — he  shall  be  a delirious  Mystic ; to  him  thou, 
with  sniffing  charity,  wilt  protrusively  proffer  thy  hand-lamp, 
and  shriek,  as  one  injured,  when  he  kicks  his  foot  through 
it  ? — Armer  Teufel ! Doth  not  thy  cow  calve,  doth  not  thy 
bull  gender  ? Thou  thyself,  wert  thou  not  born,  wilt  thou 
not  die  ? 1 Explain 9 me  all  this,  or  do  one  of  two  things : 

Retire  into  private  places  with  thy  foolish  cackle ; or,  what 
were  better,  give  it  up,  and  weep,  not  that  the  reign  of 
wonder  is  done,  and  God’s  world  all  disembellished  and  pro- 
saic, but  that  thou  hitherto  art  a Dilettante  and  sand-blind 
Pedant.” 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PROSPECTIVE. 

The  Philosophy  of  Clothes  is  now  to  all  readers,  as  we 
predicted  it  would  do,  unfolding  itself  into  new  boundless 
expansions,  of  a cloud-capt,  almost  chimerical  aspect,  yet  not 
without  azure  loomings  in  the  far  distance,  and  streaks  as  of 
an  Elysian  brightness;  the  highly  questionable  purport  and 
promise  of  which  it  is  becoming  more  and  more  important 
for  us  to  ascertain.  Is  that  a real  Elysian  brightness,  cries 
many  a timid  wayfarer,  or  the  reflex  of  Pandemonian  lava  ? 
Is  it  of  a truth  leading  us  into  beatific  Asphodel  meadows, 
or  the  yellow-burning  marl  of  a Hell-on-Earth  ? 


54 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


Our  Professor,  like  other  Mystics,  whether  delirious  or 
inspired,  gives  an  Editor  enough  to  do.  Ever  higher  and 
dizzier  are  the  heights  he  leads  us  to;  more  piercing,  all- 
comprehending,  all-confounding  are  his  views  and  glances. 
For  example,  this  of  Nature  being  not  an  Aggregate  but  a 
Whole : — 

“Well  sang  the  Hebrew  Psalmist:  ‘If  I take  the  wings 
of  the  morning  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  uni- 
verse, God  is  there.’  Thou  thyself,  0 cultivated  reader, 
who  too  probably  art  no  Psalmist,  but  a Prosaist,  knowing 
God  only  by  tradition,  knowest  thou  any  corner  of  the  world 
where  at  least  Force  is  not  ? The  drop  which  thou  shakest 
from  thy  wet  hand,  rests  not  where  it  falls,  but  to-morrow 
thou  findest  it  swept  away ; already  on  the  wings  of  the 
North-wind,  it  is  nearing  the  Tropic  of  Cancer.  How  came  it 
to  evaporate,  and  not  lie  motionless  ? Thinkest  thou  there 
is  aught  motionless ; without  Force,  and  utterly  dead  ? 

“As  I rode  through  the  Schwarzwald,  I said  to  myself: 
That  little  fire  which  glows  star-like  across  the  dark-growing 
( nachtende ) moor,  where  the  sooty  smith  bends  over  his  anvil, 
and  thou  hopest  to  replace  thy  lost  horse-shoe,  — is  it  a de- 
tached, separated  speck,  cut  off  from  the  whole  Universe ; or 
indissolubly  joined  to  the  whole?  Thou  fool,  that  smithy- 
fire  was  (primarily)  kindled  at  the  Sun;  is  fed  by  air  that 
circulates  from  before  Noah’s  Deluge,  from  beyond  the  Dog- 
star;  therein,  with  Iron  Force,  and  Coal  Force,  and  the  far 
stranger  Force  of  Man,  are  cunning  affinities  and  battles  and 
victories  of  Force  brought  about;  it  is  a little  ganglion,  or 
nervous  centre,  in  the  great  vital  system  of  Immensity.  Call 
it,  if  thou  wilt,  an  unconscious  Altar,  kindled  on  the  bosom 
of  the  All ; whose  iron  sacrifice,  whose  iron  smoke  and  influ- 
ence reach  quite  through  the  All;  whose  dingy  Priest,  not 
by  word,  yet  by  brain  and  sinew,  preaches  forth  the  mystery 
of  Force;  nay  preaches  forth  (exoterically  enough)  one  little 
textlet  from  the  Gospel  of  Freedom,  the  Gospel  of  Man’s 
Force,  commanding,  and  one  day  to  be  all-commanding. 

“ Detached,  separated ! I say  there  is  no  such  separation : 
nothing  hitherto  was  ever  stranded,  cast  aside ; but  all,  were 


Chap.  XI. 


PKOSPECTIVE. 


55 


it  only  a withered  leaf,  works  together  with  all;  is  borne 
forward  on  the  bottomless,  shoreless  flood  of  Action,  and 
lives  through  perpetual  metamorphoses.  The  withered  leaf 
is  not  dead  and  lost,  there  are  Forces  in  it  and  around  it, 
though  working  in  inverse  order ; else  how  could  it  rot  ? 
Despise  not  the  rag  from  which  man  makes  Paper,  or  the 
litter  from  which  the  earth  makes  Corn.  Bightly  viewed 
no  meanest  object  is  insignificant;  all  objects  are  as  win- 
dows, through  which  the  philosophic  eye  looks  into  Infinitude 
itself.” 

Again,  leaving  that  wondrous  Schwarzwald  Smithy-Altar, 
what  vacant,  high-sailing  air-ships  are  these,  and  whither 
will  they  sail  with  us  ? 

“All  visible  things  are  emblems;  what  thou  seest  is  not 
there  on  its  own  account ; strictly  taken,  is  not  there  at  all : 
Matter  exists  only  spiritually,  and  to  represent  some  Idea, 
and  body  it  forth. . Hence  Clothes,  as  despicable  as  we  think 
them,  are  so  unspeakably  significant.  Clothes,  from  the 
King’s  mantle  downwards,  are  emblematic,  not  of  want  only, 
but  of  a manifold  cunning  Victory  over  Want.  On  the  other 
hand,  all  Emblematic  things  are  properly  Clothes,  thought- 
woven  or  hand-woven : must  not  the  Imagination  weave  Gar- 
ments, visible  Bodies,  wherein  the  else  invisible  creations 
and  inspirations  of  our  Beason  are,  like  Spirits,  revealed,  and 
first  become  all-powerful;  — the  rather  if,  as  we  often  see, 
the  Hand  too  aid  her,  and  (by  wool  Clothes  or  otherwise) 
reveal  such  even  to  the  outward  eye  ? 

“ Men  are  properly  said  to  be  clothed  with  Authority,  clothed 
with  Beauty,  with  Curses,  and  the  like.  Nay,  if  you  con- 
sider it,  what  is  Man  himself,  and  his  whole  terrestrial  Life, 
but  an  Emblem;  a Clothing  or  visible  Garment  for  that  di- 
vine Me  of  his,  cast  hither,  like  a light-particle,  down  from 
Heaven  ? Thus  is  he  said  also  to  be  clothed  with  a Body. 

“ Language  is  called  the  Garment  of  Thought : however,  it 
should  rather  be,  Language  is  the  Flesh-Garment,  the  Body, 
of  Thought.  I said  that  Imagination  wove  this  Flesh-Gar- 
ment ; and  does  not  she  ? Metaphors  are  her  stuff : examine 
Language ; what,  if  you  except  some  few  primitive  elements 


56 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


(of  natural  sound),  what  is  it  all  but  Metaphors,  recognized 
as  such,  or  no  longer  recognized ; still  fluid  and  florid,  or  now 
solid-grown  and  colorless  ? If  those  same  primitive  elements 
are  the  osseous  fixtures  in  the  Flesh-Garment,  Language, — 
then  are  Metaphors  its  muscles  and  tissues  and  living  integu- 
ments. An  unmetaphorical  style  you  shall  in  vain  seek  for : 
is  not  your  very  Attention  a Stretching-to  ? The  difference 
lies  here : some  styles  are  lean,  adust,  wiry,  the  muscle  itself 
seems  osseous ; some  are  even  quite  pallid,  hunger-bitten  and 
dead-looking ; while  others  again  glow  in  the  flush  of  health 
and  vigorous  self-growth,  sometimes  (as  in  my  OAvn  case)  not 
without  an  apoplectic  tendency.  Moreover,  there  are  sham 
Metaphors,  which  overhanging  that  same  Thought’s-Body 
(best  naked),  and  deceptively  bedizening,  or  bolstering  it  out, 
may  be  called  its  false  stuffings,  superfluous  show-cloaks 
(Putz- Mantel),  and  tawdry  woollen  rags : whereof  he  that  runs 
and  reads  may  gather  whole  hampers,  — and  burn  them.” 

Than  which  paragraph  on  Metaphors  did  the  reader  ever 
chance  to  see  a more  surprisingly  metaphorical  ? However, 
that  is  not  our  chief  grievance ; the  Professor  continues  : — 

“ Why  multiply  instances  ? It  is  written,  the  Heavens  and 
the  Earth  shall  fade  away  like  a Vesture ; which  indeed  they 
are : the  Time-vesture  of  the  Eternal.  Whatsoever  sensibly 
exists,  whatsoever  represents  Spirit  to  Spirit,  is  properly  a 
Clothing,  a suit  of  Raiment,  put  on  for  a season,  and  to  be 
laid  off.  Thus  in  this  one  pregnant  subject  of  Clothes, 
rightly  understood,  is  included  all  that  men  have  thought, 
dreamed,  done,  and  been:  the  whole  External  Universe  and 
what  it  holds  is  but  Clothing ; and  the  essence  of  all  Science 
lies  in  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes.” 

Towards  these  dim  infinitely  expanded  regions,  close-bor- 
dering on  the  impalpable  Inane,  it  is  not  without  apprehension, 
and  perpetual  difficulties,  that  the  Editor  sees  himself  jour- 
neying and  struggling.  Till  lately  a cheerful  daystar  of  hope 
hung  before  him,  in  the  expected  Aid  of  Hofrath  Heuschrecke ; 
which  daystar,  however,  melts  now,  not  into  the  red  of  morn- 
ing, but  into  a vague,  gray  half-light,  uncertain  whether  dawn 
of  day  or  dusk  of  utter  darkness.  For  the  last  week,  these  so- 


Chap.  XI. 


PROSPECTIVE. 


57 


called  Biographical  Documents  are  in  his  hand.  By  the  kind- 
ness of  a Scottish  Hamburg  Merchant,  whose  name,  known  to 
the  whole  mercantile  world,  he  must  not  mention  ; but  whose 
honorable  courtesy,  now  and  often  before  spontaneously  mani- 
fested to  him,  a mere  literary  stranger,  he  cannot  soon  forget, 
— the  bulky  Weissnichtwo  Packet,  with  all  its  Custom-house 
seals,  foreign  hieroglyphs,  and  miscellaneous  tokens  of  Travel, 
arrived  here  in  perfect  safety,  and  free  of  cost.  The  reader 
shall  now  fancy  with  what  hot  haste  it  was  broken  up,  with 
what  breathless  expectation  glanced  over  j and,  alas,  with  what 
unquiet  disappointment  it  has,  since  then,  been  often  thrown 
down,  and  again  taken  up. 

Hofrath  Heuschrecke,  in  a too  long-winded  Letter,  full  of 
compliments,  Weissnichtwo  politics,  dinners,  dining  repartees, 
and  other  ephemeral  trivialities,  proceeds  to  remind  us  of 
what  we  knew  well  already : that  however  it  may  be  with  Meta- 
physics, and  other  abstract  Science  originating  in  the  Head 
( Verstand ) alone,  no  Life-Philosophy  ( Lebensphilosophie ),  such 
as  this  of  Clothes  pretends  to  be,  which  originates  equally  in 
the  Character  ( Gemuth ),  and  equally  speaks  thereto,  can  attain 
its  significance  till  the  Character  itself  is  known  and  seen ; 
“till  the  Author’s  View  of  the  World  ( Weltansicht ),  and  how 
he  actively  and  passively  came  by  such  view,  are  clear : in 
short  till  a Biography  of  him  has  been  philosophico-poetically 
written,  and  philosophico-poetically  read.  . . . Nay,”  adds  he, 
“ were  the  speculative  scientific  Truth  even  known,  you  still, 
in  this  inquiring  age,  ask  yourself,  Whence  came  it,  and  Why, 
and  How  ? — and  rest  not,  till,  if  no  better  may  be,  Fancy 
have  shaped  out  an  answer ; and  either  in  the  authentic  linea- 
ments of  Fact,  or  the  forged  ones  of  Fiction,  a complete 
picture  and  Genetical  History  of  the  Man  and  his  spiritual 
Endeavor  lies  before  you.  But  why,”  says  the  Hofrath,  and 
indeed  say  we,  “ do  I dilate  on  the  uses  of  our  Teufelsdrockh’s 
Biography  ? The  great  Herr  Minister  von  Goethe  has  pene- 
tratingly  remarked  that  ‘Man  is  properly  the  only  object  that 
interests  man : 9 thus  I too  have  noted,  that  in  Weissnichtwo 
our  whole  conversation  is  little  or  nothing  else  but  Biography 
or  Autobiography ; ever  humano-anecdotical  (menschlich-anek- 


58 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


dotisch).  Biography  is  by  nature  the  most  universally  profit- 
able, universally  pleasant  of  all  things  : especially  Biography 
of  distinguished  individuals. 

“By  this  time,  mein  Verehrtester  (my  Most  Esteemed),”  con- 
tinues he,  with  an  eloquence  which,  unless  the  words  be  pur- 
loined from  Teufelsdrockh,  or  some  trick  of  his,  as  we  suspect, 
is  well-nigh  unaccountable,  “by  this  time  you  are  fairly  plunged 
( vertieft ) in  that  mighty  forest  of  Clothes-Philosophy ; and 
looking  round,  as  all  readers  do,  with  astonishment  enough. 
Such  portions  and  passages  as  you  have  already  mastered,  and 
brought  to  paper,  could  not  but  awaken  a strange  curiosity 
touching  the  mind  they  issued  from ; the  perhaps  unparalleled 
psychical  mechanism,  which  manufactured  such  matter,  and 
emitted  it  to  the  light  of  day.  Had  Teufelsdrockh  also  a 
father  and  mother ; did  he,  at  one  time,  wear  drivel-bibs,  and 
live  on  spoon-meat  ? Did  he  ever,  in  rapture  and  tears,  clasp 
a friend’s  bosom  to  his ; looks  he  also  wistfully  into  the  long 
burial-aisle  of  the  Past,  where  only  winds,  and  their  low  harsh 
moan,  give  inarticulate  answer  ? Has  he  fought  duels ; — 
good  Heaven ! how  did  he  comport  himself  when  in  Love  ? 
By  what  singular  stair-steps,  in  short,  and  subterranean  pas- 
sages, and  sloughs  of  Despair,  and  steep  Pisgah  hills,  has  he 
reached  this  wonderful  prophetic  Hebron  (a  true  Old-Clothes 
Jewry)  where  he  now  dwells  ? 

“ To  all  these  natural  questions  the  voice  of  public  History 
is  as  yet  silent.  Certain  only  that  he  has  been,  and  is,  a Pil- 
grim, and  Traveller  from  a far  Country  ; more  or  less  footsore 
and  travel-soiled ; has  parted  with  road-companions ; fallen 
among  thieves,  been  poisoned  by  bad  cookery,  blistered  with 
bug-bites  5 nevertheless,  at  every  stage  (for  they  have  let.  him 
pass),  has  had  the  Bill  to  discharge.  But  the  whole  particu- 
lars of  his  Route,  his  Weather-observations,  the  picturesque 
Sketches  he  took,  though  all  regularly  jotted  down  (in  indeli- 
ble sympathetic-ink  by  an  invisible  interior  Penman),  are  these 
nowhere  forthcoming  ? Perhaps  quite  lost : one  other  leaf  of 
that  mighty  Volume  (of  human  Memory)  left  to  fly  abroad, 
unprinted,  unpublished,  unbound  up,  as  waste  paper ; and  to 
rot,  the  sport  of  rainy  winds  ? 


Chap.  XI. 


PROSPECTIVE. 


59 


“No,  verehrtester  Herr  Herausgeber , in  no  wise  ! I here,  by 
the  unexampled  favor  you  stand  in  with  our  Sage,  send  not  a 
Biography  only,  but  an  Autobiography : at  least  the  materials 
for  such;  wherefrom,  if  I misreckon  not,  your  perspicacity 
will  draw  fullest  insight : and  so  the  whole  Philosophy  and 
Philosopher  of  Clothes  will  stand  clear  to  the  wondering  eyes 
of  England,  nay  thence,  through  America,  through  Hindostan, 
and  the  antipodal  New  Holland,  finally  conquer  ( einnehmen ) 
great  part  of  this  terrestrial  Planet ! ” 

And  now  let  the  sympathizing  reader  judge  of  our  feeling 
when,  in  place  of  this  same  Autobiography  with  “ fullest  in- 
sight,” we  find — Six  considerable  Paper-Bags,  carefully  sealed, 
and  marked  successively,  in  gilt  China-ink,  with  the  symbols 
of  the  Six  southern  Zodiacal  Signs,  beginning  at  Libra ; in  the 
inside  of  which  sealed  Bags  lie  miscellaneous  masses  of  Sheets, 
and  oftener  Shreds  and  Snips,  written  in  Professor  Teufels- 
drockh’s  scarce  legible  cursiv-schrift ; and  treating  of  all  im- 
aginable things  under  the  Zodiac  and  above  it,  but  of  his  own 
personal  history  only  at  rare  intervals,  and  then  in  the  most 
enigmatic  manner. 

Whole  fascicles  there  are,  wherein  the  Professor,  or,  as  he 
here,  speaking  in  the  third  person,  calls  himself,  “ the  Wan- 
derer,” is  not  once  named.  Then  again,  amidst  what  seems  to 
be  a Metaphysico-theological  Disquisition,  “ Detached  Thoughts 
on  the  Steam-engine,”  or,  “ The  continued  Possibility  of  Proph- 
ecy,” we  shall  meet  with  some  quite  private,  not  unimportant 
Biographical  fact.  On  certain  sheets  stand  Dreams,  authentic 
or  not,  while  the  circumjacent  waking  Actions  are  omitted. 
Anecdotes,  oftenest  without  date  of  place  or  time,  fly  loosely 
on  separate  slips,  like  Sibylline  leaves.  Interspersed  also  are 
long  purely  Autobiographical  delineations ; yet  without  con- 
nection, without  recognizable  coherence ; so  unimportant,  so 
superfluously  minute,  they  almost  remind  us  of  “ P.P.  Clerk 
of  this  Parish.”  Thjis  does  famine  of  intelligence  alternate 
with  waste.  Selection,  order,  appears  to  be  unknown  to  the 
Professor.  In  all  Bags  the  same  imbroglio ; only  perhaps 
in  the  Bag  Capricorn,  and  those  near  it,  the  confusion  a little 
worse  confounded.  Close  by  a rather  eloquent  Oration,  “ On 


60 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  I. 


receiving  the  Doctor’ s-Hat,”  lie  wash-bills,  marked  bezahlt 
(settled).  His  Travels  are  indicated  by  the  Street-Advertise- 
ments of  the  various  cities  he  has  visited ; of  which  Street- 
Advertisements,  in  most  living  tongues,  here  is  perhaps  the 
completest  collection  extant. 

So  that  if  the  Clothes-Volume  itself  was  too  like  a Chaos, 
we  have  now  instead  of  the  solar  Luminary  that  should  still 
it,  the  airy  Limbo  which  by  intermixture  will  farther  vola- 
tilize and  discompose  it ! As  we  shall  perhaps  see  it  our  duty 
ultimately  to  deposit  these  Six  Paper-Bags  in  the  British 
Museum,  farther  description,  and  all  vituperation  of  them, 
may  be  spared.  Biography  or  Autobiography  of  Teufelsdrockh 
there  is,  clearly  enough,  none  to  be  gleaned  here  : at  most 
some  sketchy,  shadowy  fugitive  likeness  of  him  may,  by 
unheard-of  efforts,  partly  of  intellect,  partly  of  imagination, 
on  the  side  of  Editor  and  of  Reader,  rise  up  between  them. 
Only  as  a gaseous-chaotic  Appendix  to  that  aqueous-chaotic 
Volume  can  the  contents  of  the  Six  Bags  hover  round  us, 
and  portions  thereof  be  incorporated  with  our  delineation 
of  it. 

Daily  and  nightly  does  the  Editor  sit  (with  green  spec- 
tacles) deciphering  these  unimaginable  Documents  from  their 
perplexed  cursiv-schrift ; collating  them  with  the  almost 
equally  unimaginable  Volume,  which  stands  in  legible  print. 
Over  such  a universal  medley  of  high  and  low,  of  hot,  cold, 
moist  and  dry,  is  he  here  struggling  (by  union  of  like  with  like, 
which  is  Method)  to  build  a firm  Bridge  for  British  travellers. 
}sever  perhaps  since  our  first  Bridge-builders,  Sin  and  Death, 
built  that  stupendous  Arch  from  Hell-gate  to  the  Earth,  did 
any  Pontifex,  or  Pontiff,  undertake  such  a task  as  the  present 
Editor.  For  in  this  Arch  too,  leading,  as  we  humbly  presume, 
far  otherwards  than  that  grand  primeval  one,  the  materials 
are  to  be  fished  up  from  the  weltering  deep,  and  down  from 
the  simmering  air,  here  one  mass,  there  another,  and  cun- 
ningly cemented,  while  the  elements  boil  beneath : nor  is  there 
any  supernatural  force  to  do  it  with  ; but  simply  the  Diligence 
and  feeble  thinking  Faculty  of  an  English  Editor,  endeavoring 
to  evolve  printed  Creation  out  of  a German  printed  and  writ- 


Chap.  XI. 


PROSPECTIVE. 


61 


ten  Chaos,  wherein,  as  he  shoots  to  and  fro  in  it,  gathering, 
clutching,  piecing  the  Why  to  the  far-distant  therefore,  his 
whole  Faculty  and  Self  are  like  to  be  swallowed  up. 

Patiently,  under  these  incessant  toils  and  agitations,  does 
the  Editor,  dismissing  all  anger,  see  his  otherwise  robust 
health  declining;  some  fraction  of  his  allotted  natural  sleep 
nightly  leaving  him,  and  little  but  an  inflamed  nervous-system 
to  be  looked  for.  What  is  the  use  of  health,  or  of  life,  if 
not  to  do  some  work  therewith  ? And  what  work  nobler  than 
transplanting  foreign  Thought  into  the  barren  domestic  soil  *, 
except  indeed  planting  Thought  of  your  own,  which  the  few- 
est are  privileged  to  do  ? Wild  as  it  looks,  this  Philoso- 
phy of  Clothes,  can  we  ever  reach  its  real  meaning,  promises 
to  reveal  new-coming  Eras,  the  first  dim  rudiments  and 
already-budding  germs  of  a nobler  Era,  in  Universal  History. 
Is  not  such  a prize  worth  some  striving  ? Forward  with  us, 
courageous  reader ; be  it  towards  failure,  or  towards  success ! 
The  latter  thou  sharest  with  us ; the  former  also  is  not  all 


our  own. 


BOOK  II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GENESIS. 

In  a psychological  point  of  view,  it  is  perhaps  questionable 
whether  from  birth  and  genealogy,  how  closely  scrutinized 
soever,  much  insight  is  to  be  gained.  Nevertheless,  as  in 
every  phenomenon  the  Beginning  remains  always  the  most 
notable  moment ; so,  with  regard  to  any  great  man,  we  rest 
not  till,  for  our  scientific  profit  or  not,  the  whole  circumstances 
of  his  first  appearance  in  this  Planet,  and  what  manner  of 
Public  Entry  he  made,  are  with  utmost  completeness  rendered 
manifest.  To  the  Genesis  of  our  Clothes-Philosopher,  then, 
be  this  First  Chapter  consecrated.  Unhappily,  indeed,  he 
seems  to  be  of  quite  obscure  extraction ; uncertain,  we  might 
almost  say,  whether  of  any : so  that  this  Genesis  of  his  can 
properly  be  nothing  but  an  Exodus  (or  transit  out  of  Invisi- 
bility into  Visibility) ; whereof  the  preliminary  portion  is 
nowhere  forthcoming. 

“ In  the  village  of  Entepfuhl,”  thus  writes  he,  in  the  Bag 
Libra , on  various  Papers,  which  we  arrange  with  difficulty, 
“ dwelt  Andreas  Eutteral  and  his  wife;  childless,  in  still 
seclusion,  and  cheerful  though  now  verging  towards  old  age. 
Andreas  had  been  grenadier  Sergeant,  and  even  regimental 
Schoolmaster  under  Frederick  the  Great;  but  now,  quitting 
the  halbert  and  ferule  for  the  spade  and  pruning-hook,  culti- 
vated a little  Orchard,  on  the  produce  of  which  he,  Cincin- 
natus-like,  lived  not  without  dignity.  Fruits,  the  peach,  the 
apple,  the  grape,  with  other  varieties  came  in  their  season; 
all  which  Andreas  knew  how  to  sell : on  evenings  he  smoked 


Chap.  I. 


GENESIS. 


63 


largely,  or  read  (as  beseemed  a regimental  Schoolmaster),  and 
talked  to  neighbors  that  would  listen  about  the  Victory  of 
Rossbach ; and  how  Fritz  the  Only  {dev  Einzige)  had  once 
with  his  own  royal  lips  spoken  to  him,  had  been  pleased  to 
say,  when  Andreas  as  camp-sentinel  demanded  the  pass-word, 
‘ Schweig  Hund  (Peace,  hound) ! ’ before  any  of  his  staff- 
adjutants  could  answer.  ‘ Das  nenvd  ich  mir  einen  Konig, 
There  is  what  I call  a King/  would  Andreas  exclaim : ‘ but 
the  smoke  of  Kunersdorf  was  still  smarting  his  eyes.’ 

“ Gretchen,  the  housewife,  won  like  Desdemona  by  the  deeds 
rather  than  the  looks  of  her  now  veteran  Othello,  lived  not 
in  altogether  military  subordination;  for,  as  Andreas  said, 
‘the  womankind  will  not  drill  ( wer  kann  die  Weiberchen  dres- 
siren)  : ’ nevertheless  she  at  heart  loved  him  both  for  valor 
and  wisdom ; to  her  a Prussian  grenadier  Sergeant  and  Regi- 
ment’s Schoolmaster  was  little  other  than  a Cicero  and  Cid : 
what  you  see,  yet  cannot  see  over,  is  as  good  as  infinite. 
Nay,  was  not  Andreas  in  very  deed  a man  of  order,  courage, 
downrightness  ( Geradheit ) ; that  understood  Biisching’s  Geog- 
raphy, had  been  in  the  victory  of  Rossbach,  and  left  for  dead 
in  the  camisade  of  Hochkirch  ? The  good  Gretchen,  for  all 
her  fretting,  watched  over  him  and  hovered  round  him  as  only 
a true  house-mother  can : assiduously  she  cooked  and  sewed 
and  scoured  for  him ; so  that  not  only  his  old  regimental 
sword  and  grenadier-cap,  but  the  whole  habitation  and  envi- 
ronment, where  on  pegs  of  honor  they  hung,  looked  ever  trim 
and  gay : a roomy  painted  Cottage,  embowered  in  fruit-trees 
and  forest-trees,  evergreens  and  honeysuckles ; rising  many- 
colored  from  amid  shaven  grass-plots,  flowers  struggling  in 
through  the  very  windows;  under  its  long  projecting  eaves 
nothing  but  garden-tools  in  methodic  piles  (to  screen  them 
from  rain),  and  seats  where,  especially  on  summer  nights,  a 
King  might  have  wished  to  sit  and  smoke,  and  call  it  his. 
Such  a Bauergut  (Copyhold)  had  Gretchen  given  her  veteran  ; 
whose  sinewy  arms,  and  long-disused  gardening  talent,  had 
made  it  what  you  saw. 

“ Into  this  umbrageous  Man’s-nest,  one  meek  yellow  evening 
or  dusk,  when  the  Sun,  hidden  indeed  from  terrestrial  Entep- 


64 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


fuhl,  did  nevertheless  journey  visible  and  radiant  along  the 
celestial  Balance  {Libra),  it  was  that  a Stranger  of  reverend 
aspect  entered;  and,  with  grave  salutation,  stood  before  the 
two  rather  astonished  housemates.  He  was  close-muffled  in 
a wide  mantle;  which  without  farther  parley  unfolding,  he 
deposited  therefrom  what  seemed  some  Basket,  overhung  with 
green  Persian  silk ; saying  only  : Ihr  lieben  Leute,  hier  bringe 
ein  unschatzbares  Verleihen  ; nelimt  es  in  aller  Acht,  sorgfaltigst 
benutzt  es : mit  h Aiem  Lohn,  oder  wohl  mit  schweren  Zinsen, 
wird’s  einst  zuruckgefordert.  ‘Good  Christian  people,  here 
lies  for  you  an  invaluable  Loan ; take  all  heed  thereof,  in  all 
carefulness  employ  it : with  high  recompense,  or  else  with 
heavy  penalty,  will  it  one  day  be  required  back/  Uttering 
which  singular  words,  in  a clear,  bell-like,  forever  memorable 
tone,  the  Stranger  gracefully  withdrew ; and  before  Andreas 
or  his  wife,  gazing  in  expectant  wonder,  had  time  to  fashion 
either  question  or  answer,  was  clean  gone.  Neither  out  of 
doors  could  aught  of  him  be  seen  or  heard ; he  had  vanished 
in  the  thickets,  in  the  dusk ; the  Orchard-gate  stood  quietly 
closed : the  Stranger  was  gone  once  and  always.  So  sudden 
had  the  whole  transaction  been,  in  the  autumn  stillness  and 
twilight,  so  gentle,  noiseless,  that  the  Futterals  could  have 
fancied  it  all  a trick  of  Imagination,  or  some  visit  from  an 
authentic  Spirit.  Only  that  the  green-silk  Basket,  such  as 
neither  Imagination  nor  authentic  Spirits  are  wont  to  carry, 
still  stood  visible  and  tangible  on  their  little  parlor-table. 
Towards  this  the  astonished  couple,  now  with  lit  candle,  has- 
tily turned  their  attention.  Lifting  the  green  veil,  to  see  what 
invaluable  it  hid,  they  descried  there,  amid  down  and  rich 
white  wrappages,  no  Pitt  Diamond  or  Hapsburg  Regalia,  but, 
in  the  softest  sleep,  a little  red-colored  Infant ! Beside  it,  lay 
a roll  of  gold  Friedrichs,  the  exact  amount  of  which  was  never 
publicly  known;  also  a Taufschein  (baptismal  certificate), 
wherein  unfortunately  nothing  but  the  Name  was  decipherable , 
other  document  or  indication  none  whatever. 

“ To  wonder  and  conjecture  was  unavailing,  then  and  always 
thenceforth.  Nowhere  in  Entepfuhl,  on  the  morrow  or  next 
day,  did  tidings  transpire  of  any  such  figure  as  the  Stranger ; 


Chap.  I. 


GENESIS. 


65 


nor  could  the  Traveller,  who  had  passed  through  the  neigh- 
boring Town  in  coach-and-four,  be  connected  with  this  Appari- 
tion, except  in  the  way  of  gratuitous  surmise.  Meanwhile,  for 
Andreas  and  his  wife,  the  grand  practical  problem  was : What 
to  do  with  this  little  sleeping  red-colored  Infant  ? Amid  amaze- 
ments and  curiosities,  which  had  to  die  away  without  external 
satisfying,  they  resolved,  as  in  such  circumstances  charitable 
prudent  people  needs  must,  on  nursing  it,  though  with  spoon- 
meat,  into  whiteness,  and  if  possible  into  manhood.  The 
Heavens  smiled  on  their  endeavor  : thus  has  that  same  myste- 
rious Individual  ever  since  had  a status  for  himself  in  this 
visible  Universe,  some  modicum  of  victual  and  lodging  and 
parade-ground ; and  now  expanded  in  bulk,  faculty  and  knowl- 
edge of  good  and  evil,  he,  as  Herr  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh, 
professes  or  is  ready  to  profess,  perhaps  not  altogether  with- 
out effect,  in  the  new  University  of  Weissnichtwo,  the  new 
Science  of  Things  in  General.” 

Our  Philosopher  declares  here,  as  indeed  we  should  think 
he  well  might,  that  these  facts,  first  communicated,  by  the 
good  Gretchen  Futteral,  in  his  twelfth  year,  “ produced  on 
the  boyish  heart  and  fancy  a quite  indelible  impression. 
Who  this  reverend  Personage,”  he  says,  “that  glided  into 
the  Orchard  Cottage  when  the  Sun  was  in  Libra,  and  then, 
as  on  spirit’s  wings,  glided  out  again,  might  be  ? An 
inexpressible  desire,  full  of  love  and  of  sadness,  has  often 
since  struggled  within  me  to  shape  an  answer.  Ever,  in 
my  distresses  and  my  loneliness,  has  Fantasy  turned,  full 
of  longing  ( [sehnsuchtsvoll ),  to  that  unknown  Father,  who 
perhaps  far  from  me,  perhaps  near,  either  way  invisible, 
might  have  taken  me  to  his  paternal  bosom,  there  to  lie 
screened  from  many  a woe.  Thou  beloved  Father,  dost 
thou  still,  shut  out  from  me  only  by  thin  penetrable  cur- 
tains of  earthly  Space,  wend  to  and  fro  among  the  crowd 
of  the  living  ? Or  art  thou  hidden  by  those  far  thicker 
curtains  of  the  Everlasting  Night,  or  rather  of  the  Ever- 
lasting Day,  through  which  my  mortal  eye  and  outstretched 
arms  need  not  strive  to  reach  ? Alas,  I know  not,  and  in 
vain  vex  myself  to  know.  More  than  once,  heart-deluded, 
VOL.  i.  5 


66 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


have  I taken,  for  thee  this  and  the  other  noble-looking  Stran- 
ger ; and  approached  him  wistfully,  with  infinite  regard ; but 
he  too  had  to  repel  me,  he  too  was  not  thou. 

“And  yet,  O Man  born  of  Woman,”  cries  the  Autobiog- 
rapher, with  one  of  his  sudden  whirls,  “wherein  is  my  case 
peculiar  ? Hadst  thou,  any  more  than  I,  a Father  whom  thou 
knowest  ? The  Andreas  and  Gretchen,  or  the  Adam  and  Eve, 
who  led  thee  into  Life,  and  for  a time  suckled  and  pap-fed  thee 
there,  whom  thou  namest  Father  and  Mother ; these  were,  like 
mine,  but  thy  nursing-father  and  nursing-mother : thy  true 
Beginning  and  Father  is  in  Heaven,  whom  with  the  bodily  eye 
thou  shalt  never  behold,  but  only  with  the  spiritual.  . . . 

“ The  little  green  veil,”  adds  he,  among  much  similar 
moralizing,  and  embroiled  discoursing,  “I  yet  keep;  still 
more  inseparably  the  Name,  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh.  From 
the  veil  can  nothing  be  inferred : a piece  of  now  quite  faded 
Persian  silk,  like  thousands  of  others.  On  the  Name  I have 
many  times  meditated  and  conjectured;  but  neither  in  this 
lay  there  any  clew.  That  it  was  my  unknown  Father’s  name 
I must  hesitate  to  believe.  To  no  purpose  have  I searched 
through  all  the  Herald’s  Books,  in  and  without  the  Ger- 
man Empire,  and  through  all  manner  of  Subscriber-Lists 
( Pranumeranten ),  Militia-Rolls,  and  other  Name-catalogues ; 
extraordinary  names  as  we  have  in  Germany,  the  name 
Teufelsdrockh,  except  as  appended  to  my  own  person,  no- 
where occurs.  Again,  what  may  the  unchristian  rather 
than  Christian  1 Diogenes  ’ mean  ? Did  that  reverend  Bas- 
ket-bearer intend,  by  such  designation,  to  shadow  forth 
my  future  destiny,  or  his  own  present  malign  humor  ? 
Perhaps  the  latter,  perhaps  both.  Thou  ill-starred  Parent, 
who  like  an  Ostrich  hadst  to  leave  thy  ill-starred  offspring 
to  be  hatched  into  self-support  by  the  mere  sky-influences 
of  Chance,  can  thy  pilgrimage  have  been  a smooth  one  ? 
Beset  by  Misfortune  thou  doubtless  hast  been;  or  indeed 
by  the  worst  figure  of  Misfortune,  by  Misconduct.  Often 
have  I fancied  how,  in  thy  hard  life-battle,  thou  wert  shot 
at,  and  slung  at,  wounded,  hand-fettered,  hamstrung,  brow- 
beaten and  bedevilled  by  the  Time-Spirit  (Zeitgeist)  in  thyself 


Chap.  I. 


GENESIS. 


67 


and  others,  till  the  good  soul  first  given  thee  was  seered  into 
grim  rage ; and  thou  hadst  nothing  for  it  but  to  leave  in 
me  an  indignant  appeal  to  the  Future,  and  living  speaking 
Protest  against  the  Devil,  as  that  same  Spirit  not  of  the 
Time  only,  but  of  Time  itself,  is  well  named ! Which 
Appeal  and  Protest,  may  I now  modestly  add,  was  not  per- 
haps quite  lost  in  air. 

“For  indeed,  as  Walter  Shandy  often  insisted,  there  is 
much,  nay  almost  all,  in  Names.  The  Name  is  the  earliest 
Garment  you  wrap  round  the  earth-visiting  Me;  to  which 
it  thenceforth  cleaves,  more  tenaciously  (for  there  are  Names 
that  have  lasted  nigh  thirty  centuries)  than  the  very  skin. 
And  now  from  without,  what  mystic  influences  does  it  not 
send  inwards,  even  to  the  centre  ; especially  in  those  plas- 
tic first-times,  when  the  whole  soul  is  yet  infantine,  soft, 
and  the  invisible  seedgrain  will  grow  to  be  an  all  over- 
shadowing tree  ! Names  ? Could  I unfold  the  influence  of 
Names,  which  are  the  most  important  of  all  Clothings,  I 
were  a second  greater  Trismegistus.  Not  only  all  common 
Speech,  but  Science,  Poetry  itself  is  no  other,  if  thou  con- 
sider it,  than  a right  Naming.  Adam’s  first  task  was  giv- 
ing names  to  natural  Appearances : what  is  ours  still  but 
a continuation  of  the  same ; be  the  Appearances  exotic- 
vegetable,  organic,  mechanic,  stars,  or  starry  movements  (as 
in  Science)  ; or  (as  in  Poetry)  passions,  virtues,  calamities,, 
God-attributes,  Gods  ? — In  a very  plain  sense  the  Proverb 
says,  Call  one  a thief  \ and  he  will  steal ; in  an  almost  similar 
sense  may  we  not  perhaps  say,  Call  one  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh, 
and  he  will  open  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  ? ” 

“ Meanwhile  the  incipient  Diogenes,  like  others,  all  igno- 
rant of  his  Why,  his  How  or  Whereabout,  was  opening  his 
eyes  to  the  kind  Light;  sprawling  out  his  ten  fingers  and 
toes  ; listening,  tasting,  feeling  ; in  a word,  by  all  his  Five 
Senses,  still  more  by  his  Sixth  Sense  of  Hunger,  and  a whole 
infinitude  of  inward,  spiritual,  half-awakened  Senses,  en- 
deavoring daily  to  acquire  for  himself  some  knowledge  of 
this  strange  Universe  where  he  had  arrived,  be  his  task 


68 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


therein  what  it  might.  Infinite  was  his  progress ; thus  in 
some  fifteen  months,  he  could  perform  the  miracle  of  — 
Speech ! To  breed  a fresh  Soul,  is  it  not  like  brooding  a 
fresh  (celestial)  Egg ; wherein  as  yet  all  is  formless,  power- 
less ; yet  by  degrees  organic  elements  and  fibres  shoot  through 
the  watery  albumen;  and  out  of  vague  Sensation  grows 
Thought,  grows  Eantasy  and  Eorce,  and  we  have  Philosophies, 
Dynasties,  nay  Poetries  and  Religions  ! 

“ Young  Diogenes,  or  rather  young  Gneschen,  for  by  such 
diminutive  had  they  in  their  fondness  named  him,  travelled 
forward  to  those  high  consummations,  by  quick  yet  easy 
stages.  The  Eutterals,  to  avoid  vain  talk,  and  moreover  keep 
the  roll  of  gold  Eriedrichs  safe,  gave  out  that  he  was  a grand- 
nephew ; the  orphan  of  some  sister’s  daughter,  suddenly  de- 
ceased, in  Andreas’s  distant  Prussian  birthland ; of  whom,  as 
of  her  indigent  sorrowing  widower,  little  enough  was  known 
at  Entepfuhl.  Heedless  of  all  which,  the  Nursling  took  to 
his  spoon-meat,  and  throve.  I have  heard  him  noted  as  a 
still  infant,  that  kept  his  mind  much  to  himself ; above  all, 
that  seldom  or  never  cried.  He  already  felt  that  time  was 
precious ; that  he  had  other  work  cut  out  for  him  than  whim- 
pering.” 

Such,  after  utmost  painful  search  and  collation  among  these 
miscellaneous  Paper-masses,  is  all  the  notice  we  can  gather 
of  Herr  Teufelsdrockh’s  genealogy.  More  imperfect,  more 
enigmatic  it  can  seem  to  few  readers  than  to  us.  The  Pro- 
fessor, in  whom  truly  we  more  and  more  discern  a certain 
satirical  turn,  and  deep  under-currents  of  roguish  whim,  for 
the  present  stands  pledged  in  honor,  so  we  will  not  doubt  him : 
but  seems  it  not  conceivable  that,  by  the  “good  Gretchen 
Futteral,”  or  some  other  perhaps  interested  party,  he  has  him- 
self been  deceived  ? Should  these  sheets,  translated  or  not, 
ever  reach  the  Entepfuhl  Circulating  Library,  some  cultivated 
native  of  that  district  might  feel  called  to  afford  explanation. 
Nay,  since  Books,  like  invisible  scouts,  permeate  the  whole 
habitable  globe,  and  Timbuctoo  itself  is  not  safe  from  British 
Literature,  may  not  some  Copy  find  out  even  the  mysterious 


Chap.  II. 


IDYLLIC. 


69 


basket-bearing  Stranger,  who  in  a state  of  extreme  senility 
perhaps  still  exists;  and  gently  force  even  him  to  disclose 
himself ; to  claim  openly  a son,  in  whom  any  father  may  feel 
pride  ? 


CHAPTEE  II. 

IDYLLIC. 

“ Happy  season  of  Childhood ! ” exclaims  Teufelsdrockh : 
“Kind  Nature,  that  art  to  all  a bountiful  mother;  that 
visitest  the  poor  man’s  hut  with  auroral  radiance;  and  for 
thy  Nursling  hast  provided  a soft  swathing  of  Love  and 
infinite  Hope,  wherein  he  waxes  and  slumbeis,  danced 
round  ( umgaukelt ) by  sweetest  Dreams  ! If  the  paternal 
Cottage  still  shuts  us  in,  its  roof  still  screens  us ; with  a 
Father  we  have  as  yet  a prophet,  priest  and  king,  and  an 
Obedience  that  makes  us  free.  The  young  spirit  has  awak- 
ened out  of  Eternity,  and  knows  not  what  we  mean  by  Time ; 
as  yet  Time  is  no  fast-hurrying  stream,  but  a sportful  sunlit 
ocean ; years  to  the  child  are  as  ages : ah  ! the  secret  of 
Vicissitude,  of  that  slower  or  quicker  decay  and  ceaseless 
down-rushing  of  the  universal  World-fabric,  from  the  granite 
mountain  to  the  man  or  day-moth,  is  yet  unknown ; and  in  a 
motionless  Universe,  we  taste,  what  afterwards  in  this  quick- 
whirling Universe  is  forever  denied  us,  the  balm  of  Eest. 
Sleep  on,  thou  fair  Child,  for  thy  long  rough  journey  is  at 
hand  ! A little  while,  and  thou  too  shalt  sleep  no  more,  but 
thy  very  dreams  shall  be  mimic  battles ; thou  too,  with  old 
Arnauld,  wilt  have  to  say  in  stern  patience : ‘ Eest  ? Eest  ? 
Shall  I not  have  all  Eternity  to  rest  in  ? ’ Celestial  Ne- 
penthe ! though  a Pyrrhus  conquer  empires,  and  an  Alex- 
ander sack  the  world,  he  finds  thee  not ; and  thou  hast  once 
fallen  gently,  of  thy  own  accord,  on  the  eyelids,  on  the  heart 
of  every  mother’s  child.  For  as  yet,  sleep  and  waking  are 
one:  the  fair  Life-garden  rustles  infinite  around,  and  every- 


70 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


where  is  dewy  fragrance,  and  the  budding  of  Hope;  which 
budding,  if  in  youth,  too  frost-nipt,  it  grow  to  flowers,  will 
in  manhood  yield  no  fruit,  but  a prickly,  bitter-rinded  stone- 
fruit,  of  which  the  fewest  can  find  the  kernel.” 

In  such  rose-colored  light  does  our  Professor,  as  Poets 
are  wont,  look  back  on  his  childhood;  the  historical  details 
of  which  (to  say  nothing  of  much  other  vague  oratorical 
matter)  he  accordingly  dwells  on  with  an  almost  wearisome 
minuteness.  We  hear  of  Entepfuhl  standing  “ in  trustful  de- 
rangement ” among  the  woody  slopes ; the  paternal  Orchard 
flanking  it  as  extreme  outpost  from  below ; the  little  Kuhbach 
gushing  kindly  by,  among  beech-rows,  through  river  after 
river,  into  the  Donau,  into  the  Black  Sea,  into  the  Atmos- 
phere and  Universe;  and  how  “the  brave  old  Linden,” 
stretching  like  a parasol  of  twenty  ells  in  radius,  overtop- 
ping all  other  rows  and  clumps,  towered  up  from  the  central 
Agora  and  Campus  Martins  of  the  Village,  like  its  Sacred 
Tree ; and  how  the  old  men  sat  talking  under  its  shadow 
(Gneschen  often  greedily  listening),  and  the  wearied  laborers 
reclined,  and  the  unwearied  children  sported,  and  the  young 
men  and  * maidens  often  danced  to  flute-music.  “ Glorious 
summer  twilights,”  cries  Teufelsdrockh,  “when  the  Sun,  like 
a proud  Conqueror  and  Imperial  Taskmaster,  turned  his  back, 
with  his  gold-purple  emblazonry,  and  all  his  fireclad  body- 
guard (of  Prismatic  Colors) ; and  the  tired  brickmakers  of 
this  clay  Earth  might  steal  a little  frolic,  and  those  few 
meek  Stars  would  not  tell  of  them  ! ” 0 

Then  we  have  long  details  of  the  Weinlesen  (Vintage), 
the  Harvest-Home,  Christmas,  and  so  forth;  with  a whole 
cycle  of  the  Entepfuhl  Children’s-games,  differing  apparently 
by  mere  superficial  shades  from  those  of  other  countries. 
Concerning  all  which,  we  shall  here,  for  obvious  reasons,  say 
nothing.  What  cares  the  world  for  our  as  yet  miniature 
Philosopher’s  achievements  under  that  “ brave  old  Linden  ” ? 
Or  even  where  is  the  use  of  such  practical  reflections  as  the 
following  ? “ In  all  the  sports  of  Children,  were  it  only  in 

their  wanton  breakages  and  defacements,  you  shall  discern 
a creative  instinct  ( schaffenden  Trieb)  : the  Mankin  feels  that 


Chap.  II. 


IDYLLIC. 


71 


he  is  a born  Man,  that  his  vocation  is  to  work.  The  choicest 
present  you  can  make  him  is  a Tool ; be  it  knife  or  pen-gun, 
for  construction  or  for  destruction ; either  way  it  is  for 
Work,  for  Change.  In  gregarious  sports  of  skill' or  strength, 
the  Boy  trains  himself  to  Co-operation,  for  war  or  peace,  as 
governor  or  governed : the  little  Maid  again,  provident  of 
her  domestic  destiny,  takes  with  preference  to  Dolls.” 

Perhaps,  however,  we  may  give  this  anecdote,  consider- 
ing who  it  is  that  relates  it : “ My  first  short-clothes  were  of 
yellow  serge ; or  rather,  I should  say,  my  first  short-cloth, 
for  the  vesture  was  one  and  indivisible,  reaching  from  neck 
to  ankle,  a mere  body  with  four  limbs:  of  which  fashion 
how  little  could  I then  divine  the  architectural,  how  much 
less  the  moral  significance  ! ” 

More  graceful  is  the  following  little  picture:  “On  fine 
evenings  I was  wont  to  carry  forth  my  supper  (bread-crumb 
boiled  in  milk),  and  eat  it  out-of-doors.  On  the  coping  of 
the  Orchard-wall,  which  I could  reach  by  climbing,  or  still 
more  easily  if  Father  Andreas  would  set  up  the  pruning- 
ladder,  my  porringer  was  placed:  there,  many  a sunset, 
have  I,  looking  at  the  distant  western  Mountains,  con- 
sumed, not  without  relish,  my  evening  meal.  Those  hues 
of  gold  and  azure,  that  hush  of  World’s  expectation  as  Day 
died,  were  still  a Hebrew  Speech  for  me;  nevertheless  I 
was  looking  at  the  fair  illuminated  Letters,  and  had  an  eye 
for  their  gilding.” 

With  “the  little  one’s  friendship  for  cattle  and  poultry” 
we  shall  not  much  intermeddle.  It  may  be  that  hereby  he 
acquired  a “certain  deeper  sympathy  with  animated  Nature  : ” 
but  when,  we  would  ask,  saw  any  man,  in  a collection  of  Bio- 
graphical Documents,  such  a piece  as  this  : “ Impressive  enough 
( bedeutungsvoll ) was  it  to  hear,  in  early  morning,  the  Swineherd’s 
horn ; and  know  that  so  many  hungry  happy  quadrupeds  were, 
on  all  sides,  starting  in  hot  haste  to  join  him,  for  breakfast 
on  the  Heath.  Or  to  see  them  at  eventide,  all  marching  in 
again,  with  short  squeak,  almost  in  military  order  ; and  each, 
topographically  correct,  trotting  off  in  succession  to  the  right 
or  left,  through  its  own  lane,  to  its  own  dwelling;  till  old 


72 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Bi>ok  II. 


Kunz,  at  the  Village-head,  now  left  alone,  blew  his  last  blast, 
and  retired  for  the  night.  We  are  wont  to  love  the  Hog 
chiefly  in  the  form  of  Ham ; yet  did  not  these  bristly  thick- 
skinned  beings  here  manifest  intelligence,  perhaps  humor  of 
character ; at  any  rate,  a touching,  trustful  submissiveness  to 
Man,  — who,  were  he  but  a Swineherd,  in  darned  gabardine, 
and  leather  breeches  more  resembling  slate  or  discolored-tin 
breeches,  is  still  the  Hierarch  of  this  lower  world  ? ” 

It  is  maintained,  by  Helvetius  and  his  set,  that  an  infant  of 
genius  is  quite  the  same  as  any  other  infant,  only  that  certain 
surprisingly  favorable  influences  accompany  him  through  life, 
especially  through  childhood,  and  expand  him,  while  others  lie 
close-folded  and  continue  dunces.  Herein,  say  they,  consists 
the  whole  difference  between  an  inspired  Prophet  and  a double- 
barrelled  Game-preserver  : the  inner  man  of  the  one  has  been 
fostered  into  generous  development ; that  of  the  other,  crushed 
down  perhaps  by  vigor  of  animal  digestion,  and  the  like,  has 
exuded  and  evaporated,  or  at  best  sleeps  now  irresuscitably 
stagnant  at  the  bottom  of  his  stomach.  “ With  which  opinion,” 
cries  Teufelsdrockh,  “ I should  as  soon  agree  as  with  this  other, 
that  an  acorn  might,  by  favorable  or  unfavorable  influences  of 
soil  and  climate,  be  nursed  into  a cabbage,  or  the  cabbage-seed 
into  an  oak. 

“ Nevertheless,”  continues  he,  “I  too  acknowledge  the  all- 
but  omnipotence  of  early  culture  and  nurture  : hereby  we  have 
either  a doddered  dwarf  bush,  or  a high-towering,  wide-shadow- 
ing tree ; either  a sick  yellow  cabbage,  or  an  edible  luxuriant 
green  one.  Of  a truth,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  men,  especially  of 
all  philosophers,  to  note  down  with  accuracy  the  characteristic 
circumstances  of  their  Education,  what  furthered,  what  hin- 
dered, what  in  any  way  modified  it:  to  which  duty,  nowadays 
so  pressing  for  many  a German  Autobiographer,  I also  zealously 
address  myself.”  — Thou  rogue ! Is  it  by  short-clothes  of  yel- 
low serge,  and  swineherd  horns,  that  an  infant  of  genius  is 
educated  ? And  yet,  as  usual,  it  ever  remains  doubtful  whether 
he  is  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  these  Autobiographical  times  of 
ours,  or  writing  from  the  abundance  of  his  own  fond  ineptitude. 
For  he  continues:  “If  among  the  ever-streaming  currents  of 


Chap.  II. 


IDYLLIC. 


73 


Sights,  Hearings,  Feelings  for  Pain  or  Pleasure,  whereby,  as  in 
a Magic  Hall,  young  Gneschen  went  about  environed,  I might 
venture  to  select  and  specify,  perhaps  these  following  were 
also  of  the  number: 

“ Doubtless,  as  childish  sports  call  forth  Intellect,  Activity, 
so  the  young  creature’s  Imagination  was  stirred  up,  and  a 
Historical  tendency  given  him  by  the  narrative  habits  of  Father 
Andreas  ; who,  with  his  battle-reminiscences,  and  gray  austere 
yet  hearty  patriarchal  aspect,  could  not  but  appear  another 
Ulysses  and  ( much-enduring  Man.’  Eagerly  I hung  upon  his 
tales,  when  listening  neighbors  enlivened  the  hearth;  from 
these  perils  and  these  travels,  wild  and  far  almost  as  Hades 
itself,  a dim  world  of  Adventure  expanded  itself  within  me. 
Incalculable  also  was  the  knowledge  I acquired  in  standing  by 
the  Old  Men  under  the  Linden-tree : the  whole  of  Immensity 
was  yet  new  to  me;  and  had  not  these  reverend  seniors, 
talkative  enough,  been  employed  in  partial  surveys  thereof 
fcr  nigh  fourscore  years  ? With  amazement  I began  to  dis- 
cover that  Entepfuhl  stood  in  the  middle  of  a Country,  of  a 
World;  that  there  was  such  a thing  as  History,  as  Biogra- 
phy ; to  which  I also,  one  day,  by  hand  and  tongue,  might  con- 
tribute. 

“ In  a like  sense  worked  the  Postwagen  (Stage-coach),  which, 
slow-rolling  under  its  mountains  of  men  and  luggage,  wended 
through  our  Village : northwards,  truly,  in  the  dead  of  night ; 
yet  southwards  visibly  at  eventide.  Not  till  my  eighth  year 
did  I reflect  that  this  Postwagen  could  be  other  than  some 
terrestrial  Moon,  rising  and  setting  by  mere  Law  of  Nature, 
like  the  heavenly  one  ; that  it  came  on  made  highways,  from 
far  cities  towards  far  cities ; weaving  them  like  a monstrous 
shuttle  into  closer  and  closer  union.  It  was  then  that,  inde- 
pendently of  Schiller’s  v Wilhelm  Tell , I made  this  not  quite 
insignificant  reflection  (so  true  also  in  spiritual  things) : Any 
road , this  simple  Entepfuhl  road , will  lead  you  to  the  end  of  the 
World! 

“ Why  mention  our  Swallows,  which,  out  of  far  Africa,  as  I 
learned,  threading  their  way  over  seas  and  mountains,  corpo- 
rate cities  and  belligerent  nations,  yearly  found  themselves, 


74 


SARTOR  RESARTUS.  ~ 


Book  II. 


with,  the  month  of  May,  snug-lodged  in  onr  Cottage  Lobby  ? 
The  hospitable  Father  (for  cleanliness’  sake)  had  fixed  a little 
bracket  plumb  under  their  nest:  there  they  built,  and  caught 
flies,  and  twittered,  and  bred ; and  all,  I chiefly,  from  the  heart 
loved  them.  Bright,  nimble  creatures,  who  taught  you  the 
mason-craft ; nay,  stranger  still,  gave  you  a masonic  incorpo- 
ration, almost  social  police  ? For  if,  by  ill  chance,  and  when 
time  pressed,  your  House  fell,  have  I not  seen  five  neighborly 
Helpers  appear  next  day ; and  swashing  to  and  fro,  with  ani- 
mated, loud,  long-drawn  chirpings,  and  activity  almost  super- 
hirundine,  complete  it  again  before  nightfall  ? 

“ But  undoubtedly  the  grand  summary  of  Entepfuhl  child’s- 
culture,  where  as  in  a funnel  its  manifold  influences  were,  con- 
centrated and  simultaneously  poured  down  on  us,  was  the 
annual  Cattle-fair.  Here,  assembling  from  all  the  four  winds, 
came  the  elements  of  an  unspeakable  hurly-burly.  Nutbrown 
maids  and  nutbrown  men,  all  clear-washed,  loud-laughing, 
bedizened  and  beribanded ; who  came  for  dancing,  for  treat- 
ing, and  if  possible,  for  happiness.  Topbooted  Graziers  from 
the  North ; Swiss  Brokers,  Italian  Drovers,  also  topbooted, 
from  the  South;  these  with  their  subalterns  in  leather  jer- 
kins, leather  skull-caps,  and  long  ox-goads  ; shouting  in  half- 
articulate  speech,  amid  the  inarticulate  barking  and  bel- 
lowing. Apart  stood  Potters  from  far  Saxony,  with  their 
crockery  in  fair  rows  ; Number g Pedlers,  in  booths  that  to  me 
seemed  richer  than  Ormuz  bazaars  ; Showmen  from  the  Lago 
Maggiore ; detachments  of  the  Wiener  Schub  (Offscourings  of 
Vienna)  vociferously  superintending  games  of  chance.  Ballad- 
singers  brayed,  Auctioneers  grew  hoarse;  cheap  New  Wine 
(heuriger)  flowed  like  water,  still  worse  confounding  the  con- 
fusion; and  high  over  all,  vaulted,  in  ground-and-lofty  tum- 
bling, a particolored  Merry-Andrew,  like  the  genius  of  the  place 
and  of  Life  itself. 

“ Thus  encircled  by  the  mystery  of  Existence ; under  the 
deep  heavenly  Firmament ; waited  on  by  the  four  golden  Sea- 
sons, with  their  vicissitudes  of  contribution,  for  even  grim 
Winter  brought  its  skating-matches  and  shooting-matches,  its 
snow-storms  and  Christmas-carols,  — did  the  Child  sit  and 


Chap.  II. 


IDYLLIC. 


75 


learn.  These  things  were  the  Alphabet,  whereby  in  after- 
time he  was  to  syllable  and  partly  read  the  grand  Volume  of 
the  World  : what  matters  it  whether  such  Alphabet  be  in  large 
gilt  letters  or  in  small  ungilt  ones,  so  you  have  an  eye  to  read 
it  ? For  Gneschen,  eager  to  learn,  the  very  act  of  looking 
thereon  was  a blessedness  that  gilded  all : his  existence  was  a 
bright,  soft  element  of  Joy ; out  of  which,  as  in  Prosperous 
Island,  wonder  after  wonder  bodied  itself  forth,  to  teach  by 
charming. 

“ Nevertheless,  I were  but  a vain  dreamer  to  say,  that  even 
then  my  felicity  was  perfect.  I had,  once  for  all,  come  down 
from  Heaven  into  the  Earth.  Among  the  rainbow  colors  that 
glowed  on  my  horizon,  lay  even  in  childhood  a dark  ring  of 
Care,  as  yet  no  thicker  than  a thread,  and  often  quite  over- 
shone ; yet  always  it  reappeared,  nay  ever  waxing  broader 
and  broader;  till  in  after-years  it  almost  overshadowed  my 
whole  canopy,  and  threatened  to  engulf  me  in  final  night. 
It  was  the  ring  of  Necessity  whereby  we  are  all  begirt ; happy 
he  for  whom  a kind  heavenly  Sun  brightens  it  into  a ring  of 
Duty,  and  plays  round  it  with  beautiful  prismatic  diffractions  ; 
yet  ever,  as  basis  and  as  bourn  for  our  whole  being,  it  is 
there. 

“ For  the  first  few  years  of  our  terrestrial  Apprenticeship, 
we  have  not  much  work  to  do ; but,  boarded  and  lodged  gratis, 
are  set  down  mostly  to  look  about  us  over  the  workshop,  and 
see  others  work,  till  we  have  understood  the  tools  a little,  and 
can  handle  this  and  that.  If  good  Passivity  alone,  and  not 
good  Passivity  and  good  Activity  together,  were  the  thing 
wanted,  then  was  my  early  position  favorable  beyond  the 
most.  In  all  that  respects  openness  of  Sense,  affectionate 
Temper,  ingenuous  Curiosity,  and  the  fostering  of  these,  what 
more  could  I have  wished  ? On  the  other  side,  however, 
things  went  not  so  well.  My  Active  Power  ( Thatkraft ) was 
unfavorably  hemmed  in ; of  which  misfortune  how  many 
traces  yet  abide  with  me ! In  an  orderly  house,  where  the 
litter  of  children’s  sports  is  hateful  enough,  your  training  is 
too  stoical ; rather  to  bear  and  forbear  than  to  make  and  do. 


76 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


I was  forbid  much : wishes  in  any  measure  bold  I had  to 
renounce;  everywhere  a strait  bond  of  Obedience  inflexibly 
held  me  down.  Thus  already  Freewill  often  came  in  painful 
collision  with  Necessity;  so  that  my  tears  flowed,  and  at 
seasons  the  Child  itself  might  taste  that  root  of  bitterness, 
wherewith  the  whole  fruitage  of  our  life  is  mingled  and 
tempered. 

“ In  which  habituation  to  Obedience,  truly,  it  was  beyond 
measure  safer  to  err  by  excess  than  by  defect.  Obedience  is 
our  universal  duty  and  destiny  ; wherein  whoso  will  not  bend 
must  break:  too  early  and  too  thoroughly  we  cannot  be 
trained  to  know  that  Would,  in  this  world  of  ours,  is  as  mere 
zero  to  Should,  and  for  most  part  as  the  smallest  of  fractions 
even  to  Shall.  Hereby  was  laid  for  me  the  basis  of  worldly 
Discretion,  nay  of  Morality  itself.  Let  me  not  quarrel  with 
my  upbringing.  It  was  rigorous,  too  frugal,  compressively 
secluded,  every  way  unscientific:  yet  in  that  very  strictness 
and  domestic  solitude  might  there  not  lie  the  root  of  deeper 
earnestness,  of  the  stem  from  which  all  noble  fruit  must 
grow  ? Above  all,  how  unskilful  soever,  it  was  loving,  it  was 
well-meant,  honest ; whereby  every  deficiency  was  helped. 
My  kind  Mother,  for  as  such  I must  ever  love  the  good 
Gretchen,  did  me  one  altogether  invaluable  service : she 
taught  me,  less  indeed  by  word  than  by  act  and  daily  reverent 
look  and  habitude,  her  own  simple  version  of  the  Christian 
Faith.  Andreas  too  attended  Church  ; yet  more  like  a parade- 
duty,  for  which  he  in  the  other  world  expected  pay  with 
arrears,  — as,  I trust,  he  has  received ; but  my  Mother,  with 
a true  woman’s  heart,  and  fine  though  uncultivated  sense,  was 
in  the  strictest  acceptation  Religious.  How  indestructibly  the 
Good  grows,  and  propagates  itself,  even  among  the  weedy  en- 
tanglements of  Evil ! The  highest  whom  I knew  on  Earth  I 
here  saw  bowed  down,  with  awe  unspeakable,  before  a Higher 
in  Heaven : such  things,  especially  in  infancy,  reach  inwards 
to  the  very  core  of  your  being ; mysteriously  does  a Holy  of 
Holies  build  itself  into  visibility  in  the  mysterious  deeps  ; and 
Reverence,  the  divinest  in  man,  springs  forth  undying  from  its 
mean  envelopment  of  Fear.  Wouldst  thou  rather  be  a peas- 


Chap.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


77 


ant’s  son  that  knew,  were  it  never  so  rudely,  there  was  a God 
in  Heaven  and  in  Man ; or  a duke’s  son  that  only  knew  there 
were  two-and-thirty  quarters  on  the  family-coach  ? ” 

To  which  last  question  we  must  answer : Beware,  0 Teufels- 
drockh,  of  spiritual  pride  ! 


CHAPTER  III. 

PEDAGOGY. 

Hitherto  we  see  young  Gneschen,  in  his  indivisible  case 
of  yellow  serge,  borne  forward  mostly  on  the  arms  of  kind 
Nature  alone  ; seated,  indeed,  and  much  to  his  mind,  in  the 
terrestrial  workshop,  but  (except  his  soft  hazel  eyes,  which 
we  doubt  not  already  gleamed  with  a still  intelligence)  called 
upon  for  little  voluntary  movement  there.  Hitherto,  accord- 
ingly, his  aspect  is  rather  generic,  that  of  an  incipient  Philoso- 
pher and  Poet  in  the  abstract ; perhaps  it  would  puzzle  Herr 
Heuschrecke  himself  to  say  wherein  the  special  Doctrine 
of  Clothes  is  as  yet  foreshadowed  or  betokened.  For  with 
Gneschen,  as  with  others,  the  Man  may  indeed  stand  pictured 
in  the  Boy  (at  least  all  the  pigments  are  there) ; yet  only 
some  half  of  the  Man  stands  in  the  Child,  or  young  Boy, 
namely,  his  Passive  endowment,  not  his  Active.  The  more 
impatient  are  we  to  discover  what  figure  he  cuts  in  this  latter 
capacity  ; how,  when,  to  use  his  own  words,  “ he  understands 
the  tools  a little,  and  can  handle  this  or  that,”  he  will  proceed 
to  handle  it. 

Here,  however,  may  be  the  place  to  state  that,  in  much  of 
our  Philosopher’s  history,  there  is  something  of  an  almost 
Hindoo  character : nay  perhaps  in  that  so  well-fostered  and 
every  way  excellent  “ Passivity  ” of  his,  which,  with  no  free 
development  of  the  antagonist  Activity,  distinguished  his 
childhood,  we  may  detect  the  rudiments  of  much  that,  in  after 
days,  and  still  in  these  present  days,  astonishes  the  world. 
For  the  shallow-sighted,  Teufelsdrockh  is  oftenest  a man 


78 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  IL 


without  Activity  of  any  kind,  a No-man ; for  the  deep-sighted, 
again,  a man  with  Activity  almost  superabundant,  yet  so 
spiritual,  close-hidden,  enigmatic,  that  no  mortal  can  foresee  its 
explosions,  or  even  when  it  has  exploded,  so  much  as  ascertain 
its  significance.  A dangerous,  difficult  temper  for  the  modern 
European ; above  all,  disadvantageous  in  the  hero  of  a Biogra- 
phy ! Now  as  heretofore  it  will  behoove  the  Editor  of  these 
pages,  were  it  never  so  unsuccessfully,  \o  do  his  endeavor. 

Among  the  earliest  tools  of  - any  complicacy  which  a man, 
especially  a man  of  letters,  gets  to  handle,  are  his  Class-books. 
On  this  portion  of  his  History,  Teufelsdrockh  looks  down 
professedly  as  indifferent.  Reading  he  “ cannot  remember 
ever  to  have  learned ;”  so  perhaps  had  it  by  nature.  He 
says  generally : “ Of  the  insignificant  portion  of  my  Edu- 
cation, which  depended  on  Schools,  there  need  almost  no 
notice  be  taken.  I learned  what  others  learn;  and  kept  it 
stored  by  in  a corner  of  my  head,  seeing  as  yet  no  manner 
of  use  in  it.  My  Schoolmaster,  a down-bent,  broken-hearted, 
underfoot  martyr,  as  others  of  that  guild  are,  did  little  for 
me,  except  discover  that  he  could  do  little:  he,  good  soul, 
pronounced  me  a genius,  fit  for  the  learned  professions ; 
and  that  I must  be  sent  to  the  Gymnasium,  and  one  day 
to  the  University.  Meanwhile,  what  printed  thing  soever 
I could  meet  with  I read.  My  very  copper  pocket-money  I 
laid  out  on  stall-literature;  which,  as  it  accumulated,  I with 
my  own  hands  sewed  into  volumes.  By  this  means  was  the 
young  head  furnished  with  a considerable  miscellany  of  things 
and  shadows  of  things:  History  in  authentic  fragments  lay 
mingled  with  Fabulous  chimeras,  wherein  also  was  reality; 
and  the  whole  not  as  dead  stuff,  but  as  living  pabulum,  toler- 
ably nutritive  for  a mind  as  yet  so  peptic.” 

That  the  Entepfuhl  Schoolmaster  judged  well,  we . now 
know.  Indeed,  already  in  the  youthful  Gneschen,  with  all 
his  outward  stillness,  there  may  have  been  manifest  an  in- 
ward vivacity  that  promised  much;  symptoms  of  a spirit 
singularly  open,  thoughtful,  almost  poetical.  Thus,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  Suppers  on  the  Orchard-wall,  and  other  phe- 
nomena of  that  earlier  period,  have  many  readers  of  these 


Chap.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


79 


pages  stumbled,  in  their  twelfth  year,  on  such  reflections  as 
the  following?  “It  struck  me  much,  as  I sat  by  the  Kuh- 
bach,  one  silent  noontide,  and  .watched  it  flowing,  gurgling, 
to  think  how  this  same  streamlet  had  flowed  and  gurgled, 
through  all  changes  of  weather  and  of  fortune,  from  beyond 
the  earliest  date  of  History.  Yes,  probably  on  the  morning 
when  Joshua  forded  Jordan;  even  as  at  the  mid-day  when 
Caesar,  doubtless  with  difficulty,  swam  the  Nile,  yet  kept 
his  Commentaries  dry,  — this  little  Kuhbach,  assiduous  as 
Tiber,  Eurotas  or  Siloa,  was  murmuring  on  across  the  wilder- 
ness, as  yet  unnamed,  unseen : here,  too,  as  in  the  Euphrates 
and  the  Ganges,  is  a vein  or  veinlet  of  the  grand  World- 
circulation  of  Waters,  which,  with  its  atmospheric  arteries, 
has  lasted  and  lasts  simply  with  the  World.  Thou  fool ! 
Nature  alone  is  antique,  and  the  oldest  art  a mushroom ; that 
idle  crag  thou  sittest  on  is  six  thousand  years  of  age.”  In 
which  little  thought,  as  in  a little  fountain,  may  there  not 
lie  the  beginning  of  those  well-nigh  unutterable  meditations 
on  the  grandeur  and  mystery  of  Time,  and  its  relation  to 
Eternity,  which  play  such  a part  in  this  Philosophy  of 
Clothes  ? 

Over  his  Gymnasic  and  Academic  years  the  Professor  by 
no  means  lingers  so  lyrical  and  joyful  as  over  his  childhood. 
Green  sunny  tracts  there  are  still ; but  intersected  by  bitter 
rivulets  of  tears,  here  and  there  stagnating  into  sour  marshes 
of  discontent.  “With  my  first  view  of  the  Hinterschlag 
Gymnasium,”  writes  he,  “my  evil  days  began.  Well  do  I 
still  remember  the  red  sunny  Whitsuntide  morning,  when, 
trotting  full  of  hope  by  the  side  of  Father  Andreas,  I entered 
the  main  street  of  the  place,  and  saw  its  steeple-clock  (then 
striking  Eight)  and  Schuldthurm  (Jail),  and  the  aproned  or 
disaproned  Burghers  moving  in  to  breakfast:  a little  dog, 
in  mad  terror,  was  rushing  past ; for  some  human  imps  had 
tied  a tin  kettle  to  its  tail;  thus  did  the  agonized  creature, 
loud-jingling,  career  through  the  whole  length  of  the  Borough, 
and  become  notable  enough.  Fit  emblem  of  many  a Conquer- 
ing Hero,  to  whom  Fate  (wedding  Fantasy  to  Sense,  as  it 
often  elsewhere  does)  has  malignantly  appended  a tin  kettle 


80 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


of  Ambition,  to  chase  him  on  5 which  the  faster  he  runs, 
urges  him  the  faster,  the  more  loudly  and  more  foolishly ! 
Fit  emblem  also  of  much  that  awaited  myself,  in  that  mis- 
chievous Den;  as  in  the  World,  whereof  it  was  a portion 
and  epitome ! 

“Alas,  the  kind  beech-rows  of  Entepfuhl  were  hidden  in 
the  distance : I was  among  strangers,  harshly,  at  best  indif- 
ferently, disposed  towards  me ; the  young  heart  felt,  for  the 
first  time,  quite  orphaned  and  alone.”  His  school-fellows,  as 
is  usual,  persecuted  him : “ They  were  Boys,”  he  says,  “ mostly 
rude  Boys,  and  obeyed  the  impulse  of  rude  Nature,  which  bids 
the  deer-herd  fall  upon  any  stricken  hart,  the  duck-flock  put 
to  death  any  broken-winged  brother  or  sister,  and  on  all  hands 
the  strong  tyrannize  over  the  weak.”  He  admits  that  though 
“ perhaps  in  an  unusual,  degree  morally  courageous,”  he  suc- 
ceeded ill  in  battle,  and  would  fain  have  avoided  it ; a result, 
as  would  appear,  owing  less  to  his  small  personal  stature  (for 
in  passionate  seasons  he  was  “incredibly  nimble”),  than  to 
his  “ virtuous  principles  : ” “ if  it  was  disgraceful  to  be  beaten,” 
says  he,  “ it  was  only  a shade  less  disgraceful  to  have  so  much 
as  fought;  thus  was  I drawn  two  ways  at  once,  and  in  this 
important  element  of  school-history,  the  war-element,  had 
little  but  sorrow.”  On  the  whole,  that  same  excellent  “Pas- 
sivity,” so  notable  in  Teufelsdrockh’s  childhood,  is  here  visibly 
enough  again  getting  nourishment.  “ He  wept  often ; indeed 
to  such  a degree  that  he  was  nicknamed  Der  Weinende  (the 
Tearful),  which  epithet,  till  towards  his  thirteenth  year,  was 
indeed  not  quite  unmerited.  Only  at  rare  intervals  did  the 
young  soul  burst  forth  into  fire-eyed  rage,  and,  with  a storm- 
fulness  ( Ungestiim ) under  which  the  boldest  quailed,  assert 
that  he  too  had  Rights  of  Man,  or  at  least  of  Mankin.”  In  all 
which,  who  does  not  discern  a fine  flower-tree  and  cinnamon- 
tree  (of  genius)  nigh  choked  among  pumpkins,  reed-grass 
and  ignoble  shrubs ; and  forced  if  it  would  live,  to  struggle 
upwards  only,  and  not  outwards ; into  a height  quite  sickly, 
and  disproportioned  to  its  breadth  ? 

We  find,  moreover,  that  his  Greek  and  Latin  were  “mechani- 
cally ” taught ; Hebrew  scarce  even  mechanically ; much  else 


Ohap.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


81 


which  they  called  History,  Cosmography,  Philosophy,  and  so 
forth,  no  better  than  not  at  all.  So  that,  except  inasmuch  as 
Nature  was  still  busy ; and  he  himself  “ went  about,  as  was  of 
old  his  wont,  among  the  Craftsmen’s  workshops,  there  learn- 
ing many  things ; ” and  farther  lighted  on  some  small  store  of 
curious  reading,  in  Hans  Wachtel  the  Cooper’s  house,  where 
he  lodged,  — his  time,  it  would  appear,  was  utterly  wasted. 
Which  facts  the  Professor  has  not  yet  learned  to  look  upon 
with  any  contentment.  Indeed,  throughout  the  whole  of  this 
Bag  Scorpio,  where  we  now  are,  and  often  in  the  following 
Bag,  he  shows  himself  unusually  animated  on  the  matter  of 
Education,  and  not  without  some  touch  of  what  we  might 
presume  to  be  anger. 

“ My  Teachers,”  says  he,  “ were  hide-bound  Pedants,  without 
knowledge  of  man’s  nature,  or  of  boy’s ; or  of  aught  save  their 
lexicons  and  quarterly  account-books.  Innumerable  dead  Voca- 
bles (no  dead  Language,  for  they  themselves  knew  no  Lan- 
guage) they  crammed  into  us,  and  called  it  fostering  the 
growth  of  mind.  How  can  an  inanimate,  mechanical  Gerund- 
grinder,  the  like  of  whom  will,  in  a subsequent  century,  be 
manufactured  at  Niirnberg  out  of  wood  and  leather,  foster  the 
growth  of  anything;  much  more  of  Mind,  which  grows,  not 
like  a vegetable  (by  having  its  roots  littered  with  etymologi- 
cal compost),  but  like  a spirit,  by  mysterious  contact  of  Spirit ; 
Thought  kindling  itself  at  the  fire  of  living  Thought  ? How 
shall  he  give  kindling,  in  whose  own  inward  man  there  is  no 
live  coal,  but  all  is  burnt  out  to  a dead  grammatical  cinder  ? 
The  Hinterschlag  Professors  knew  syntax  enough  ; and  of  the 
human  soul  thus  much  : that  it  had  a faculty  called  Memory, 
and  could  be  acted  on  through  the  muscular  integument  by 
appliance  of  birch-rods. 

“ Alas,  so  is  it  everywhere,  so  will  it  ever  be ; till  the  Hod- 
man is  discharged,  or  reduced  to  hod-bearing  ; and  an  Architect 
is  hired,  and  on  all  hands  fitly  encouraged : till  communities 
and  individuals  discover,  not  without  surprise,  that  fashioning 
the  souls  of  a generation  by  Knowledge  can  rank  on  a level 
with  blowing  their  bodies  to  pieces  by  Gunpowder ; that 
with  Generals  and  Field-marshals  for  killing,  there  should 

VOL.  i.  6 


82 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II 


be  world-honored  Dignitaries,  and  were  it  possible,  true  God- 
ordained  Priests,  for  teaching.  But  as  yet,  though  the  Sol- 
dier wears  openly,  and  even  parades,  his  butchering-tool, 
nowhere,  far  as  I have  travelled,  did  the  Schoolmaster  make 
show  of  his  instructing-tool : nay,  were  he  to  walk  abroad 
with  birch  girt  on  thigh,  as  if  he  therefrom  expected  honor, 
would  there  not,  among  the  idler  class,  perhaps  a certain  levity 
be  excited  ? 77 

In  the  third  year  of  this  Gymnasic  period,  Bather  Andreas 
seems  to  have  died : the  young  Scholar,  otherwise  so  mal- 
treated, saw  himself  for  the  first  time  clad  outwardly  in 
sables,  and  inwardly  in  quite  inexpressible  melancholy.  “ The 
dark  bottomless  Abyss,  that  lies  under  our  feet,  had  yawned 
open ; the  pale  kingdoms  of  Death,  with  all  their  innumerable 
silent  nations  and  generations,  stood  before  him ; the  inexora- 
ble word,  Never  ! now  first  showed  its  meaning.  My  Mother 
wept,  and  her  sorrow  got  vent ; but  in  my  heart  there  lay  a 
whole  lake  of  tears,  pent  up  in  silent  desolation.  Nevertheless 
the  unworn  Spirit  is  strong;  Life  is  so  healthful  that  it  even 
finds  nourishment  in  Death : these  stern  experiences,  planted 
down  by  Memory  in  my  Imagination,  rose  there  to  a whole 
cypress-forest,  sad  but  beautiful;  waving,  with  not  unmelo- 
dious  sighs,  in  dark  luxuriance,  in  the  hottest  sunshine,  through 
long  years  of  youth : — as  in  manhood  also  it  does,  and  will 
do ; for  I have  now  pitched  my  tent  under  a Cypress-tree  ; the 
Tomb  is  now  my  inexpugnable  Fortress,  ever  close  by  the  gate 
of  which  I look  upon  the  hostile  armaments,  and  pains  and 
penalties  of  tyrannous  Life  placidly  enough,  and  listen  to  its 
loudest  threatenings  with  a still  smile.  0 ye  loved  ones,  that 
already  sleep  in  the  noiseless  Bed  of  Rest,  whom  in  life  I 
could  only  weep  for  and  never  help ; and  ye,  who  wide-scat- 
tered still  toil  lonely  in  the  monster-bearing  Desert,  dyeing 
the  flinty  ground  with  your  blood,  — yet  a little  while,  and 
we  shall  all  meet  there,  and  our  Mother’s  bosom  will  screen 
us  all ; and  Oppression’s  harness,  and  Sorrow’s  fire-whip,  and 
all  the  Gehenna  Bailiffs  that  patrol  and  inhabit  ever-vexed 
Time,  cannot  thenceforth  harm  us  any  more  ! ” 

Close  by  which  rather  beautiful  apostrophe,  lies  a labored 


Chap.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


83 


Character  of  the  deceased  Andreas  Futteral ; of  his  natural 
ability,  his  deserts  in  life  (as  Prussian  Sergeant)  ; with  long 
historical  inquiries  into  the  genealogy  of  the  'Futteral  Family, 
here  traced  back  as  far  as  Henry  the  Fowler : the  whole  of 
which  we  pass  over,  not  without  astonishment.  It  only  con- 
cerns us  to  add,  that  now  was  the  time  when  Mother  Gretchen 
revealed  to  her  foster-son  that  he  was  not  at  all  of  this  kin- 
dred; or  indeed  of  any  kindred,  having  come  into  historical 
existence  in  the  way  already  known  to  us.  “Thus  was  I 
doubly  orphaned,”  says  he;  “bereft  not  only  of  Possession, 
but  even  of  Remembrance.  Sorrow  and  Wonder,  here  sud- 
denly united,  could  not  but  produce  abundant  fruit.  Such  a 
disclosure,  in  such  a season,  struck  its  roots  through  my 
whole  nature : ever  till  the  years  of  mature  manhood,  it  min- 
gled with  my  whole  thoughts,  was  as  the  stem  whereon  all  my 
day-dreams  and  night-dreams  grew.  A certain  poetic  elevation, 
yet  also  a corresponding  civic  depression,  it  naturally  im- 
parted : I was  like  no  other  ; in  which  fixed  idea,  leading  some- 
times to  highest,  and  oftener  to  frightfullest  results,  may 
there  not  lie  the  first  spring  of  tendencies,  which  in  my  Life 
have  become  remarkable  enough  ? As  in  birth,  so  in  action, 
speculation,  and  social  position,  my  fellows  are  perhaps  not 
numerous.” 

In  the  Bag  Sagittarius , as  we  at  length  discover,  Teufels- 
drockh  has  become  a University  man;  though  how,  when,  or 
of  what  quality,  will  nowhere  disclose  itself  with  the  smallest 
certainty.  Few  things,  in  the  way  of  confusion  and  capricious 
indistinctness,  can  now  surprise  our  readers  ; not  even  the 
total  want  of  dates,  almost  without  parallel  in  a Biographical 
work.  So  enigmatic,  so  chaotic  we  have  always  found,  and 
must  always  look  to  find,  these  scattered  Leaves.  In  Sagitta- 
rius, however,  Teufelsdrockh  begins  to  show  himself  even 
more  than  usually  Sibylline  : fragments  of  all  sorts : scraps 
of  regular  Memoir,  College-Exercises,  Programs,  Professional 
Testimoniums,  Milkscores,  torn  Billets,  sometimes  to  appear- 
ance of  an  amatory  cast ; all  blown  together  as  if  by  merest 
chance,  henceforth  bewilder  the  sane  Historian.  To  combine 


84 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


any  picture  of  these  University,  and  the  subsequent,  years  ; 
much  more,  to  decipher  therein  any  illustrative  primordial 
elements  of  the  Clothes-Philosophy,  becomes  such  a problem 
as  the  reader  may  imagine. 

So  much  we  can  see  ; darkly,  as  through  the  foliage  of  some 
wavering  thicket : a youth  of  no  common  endowment,  who  has 
passed  happily  through  Childhood,  less  happily  yet  still  vigor- 
ously through  Boyhood,  now  at  length  perfect  in  “ dead  voca- 
bles,” and  set  down,  as  he  hopes,  by  the  living  Fountain,  there 
to  superadd  Ideas  and  Capabilities.  From  such  Fountain  he 
draws,  diligently,  thirstily,  yet  never  or  seldom  with  his  whole 
heart,  for  the  water  nowise  suits  his  palate ; discouragements, 
entanglements,  aberrations  are  discoverable  or  supposable. 
Nor  perhaps  are  even  pecuniary  distresses  wanting;  for  “the 
good  Gretchen,  who  in  spite  of  advices  from  not  disinterested 
relatives  has  sent  him  hither,  must  after  a time  withdraw  her 
willing  but  too  feeble  hand.”  Nevertheless  in  an  atmosphere 
of  Poverty  and  manifold  Chagrin,  the  Humor  of  that  young 
Soul,  what  character  is  in  him,  first  decisively  reveals  itself ; 
and,  like  strong  sunshine  in  weeping  skies,  gives  out  variety 
of  colors,  some  of  which  are  prismatic.  Thus,  with  the  aid  of 
Time  and  of  what  Time  brings,  has  the  stripling  Diogenes 
Teuf elsdrockh  waxed  into  manly  stature ; and  into  so  ques- 
tionable an  aspect,  that  we  ask  with  new  eagerness,  How  he 
specially  came  by  it,  and  regret  anew  that  there  is  no  more 
explicit  answer.  Certain  of  the  intelligible  and  partially  sig- 
nificant fragments,  which  are  few  in  number,  shall  be  extracted 
from  that  Limbo  of  a Paper-bag,  and  presented  with  the  usual 
preparation. 

As  if,  in  the  Bag  Scorpio , Teufelsdrockh  had  not  already 
expectorated  his  antipedagogic  spleen  ; as  if,  from  the  name 
Sagittarius,  he  had  thought  himself  called  upon  to  shoot 
arrows,  we  here  again  fall  in  with  such  matter  as  this : “ The 
University  where  I was  educated  still  stands  vivid  enough  in 
my  remembrance,  and  I know  its  name  well ; which  name, 
however,  I,  from  tenderness  to  existing  interests  and  persons, 
shall  in  nowise  divulge.  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  say  that, 
out  of  England  and  Spain,  ours  was  the  worst  of  all  hitherto 


Chap.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


85 


discovered  Universities.  This  is  indeed  a time  when  right 
Education  is,  as  nearly  as  may  be,  impossible : however,  in 
degrees  of  wrongness  there  is  no  limit : nay,  I can  conceive  a 
worse  system  than  that  of  the  Nameless  itself  ; as  poisoned 
victual  may  be  worse  than  absolute  hunger. 

“It /is  written,  When  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  both  shall 
fall  into  the  ditch : wherefore,  in  such  circumstances,  may  it 
not  sometimes  be  safer,  if  both  leader  and  led  simply — sit 
still  ? Had  you,  anywhere  in  Crim  Tartary,  walled  in  a square 
enclosure  ; furnished  it  with  a small,  ill-chosen  Library ; and 
then  turned  loose  into  it  eleven  hundred  Christian  striplings, 
to  tumble  about  as  they  listed,  from  three  to  seven  years : cer- 
tain persons,  under  the  title  of  Professors,  being  stationed  at 
the  gates,  to  declare  aloud  that  it  was  a University,  and  exact 
considerable  admission-fees,  — you  had,  not  indeed  in  mechani- 
cal structure,  yet  in  spirit  and  result,  some  imperfect  resem- 
blance of  our  High  Seminary.  I say,  imperfect ; for  if  our 
mechanical  structure  was  quite  other,  so  neither  was  our  result 
altogether  the  same  : unhappily,  we  were  not  in  Crim  Tartary, 
but  in  a corrupt  European  city,  full  of  smoke  and  sin  ; more- 
over, in  the  middle  of  a Public,  which,  without  far  costlier 
apparatus  than  that  of  the  Square  Enclosure,  and  Declaration 
aloud,  you  could  not  be  sure  of  gulling. 

“ Gullible,  however,  by  fit  apparatus,  all  Publics  are ; and 
gulled,  with  the  most  surprising  profit.  Towards  anything 
like  a Statistics  of  Imposture , indeed,  little  as  yet  has  been 
done  : with  a strange  indifference,  our  Economists,  nigh  buried 
under  Tables  for  minor  Branches  of  Industry,  have  altogether 
overlooked  the  grand  all-overtopping  Hypocrisy  Branch  ; as  if 
our  whole  arts  of  Puffery,  of  Quackery,  Priestcraft,  Kingcraft, 
and  the  innumerable  other  crafts  and  mysteries  of  that  genus, 
had  not  ranked  in  Productive  Industry  at  all ! Can  any  one, 
for  example,  so  much  as  say,  What  moneys,  in  Literature  and 
Shoeblacking,  are  realized  by  actual  Instruction  and  actual  jet 
Polish ; what  by  fictitious-persuasive  Proclamation  of  such  ; 
specifying,  in  distinct  items,  the  distributions,  circulations, 
disbursements,  incomings  of  said  moneys,  with  the  smallest 
approach  to  accuracy  ? But  to  ask,  How  far,  in  all  the  several 


86 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


infinitely  complected  departments  of  social  business,  in  govern- 
ment, education,  in  manual,  commercial,  intellectual  fabrication 
of  every  sort,  man’s  Want  is  supplied  by  true  Ware  ; how  far 
by  the  mere  Appearance  of  true  Ware  : — in  other  words,  To 
what  extent,  by  what  methods,  with  what  effects,  in  various 
times  and  countries,  Deception  takes  the  place  of  wages  of 
Performance : here  truly  is  an  Inquiry  big  with  results  for  the 
future  time,  but  to  which  hitherto  only  the  vaguest  answer  can 
be  given.  If  for  the  present,  in  our  Europe,  we  estimate  the 
ratio  of  Ware  to  Appearance  of  Ware  so  high  even  as  at  One 
to  a Hundred  (which,  considering  the  Wages  of  a Pope,  Rus- 
sian Autocrat,  or  English  Game-Preserver,  is  probably  not  far 
from  the  mark),  — what  almost  prodigious  saving  may  there 
not  be  anticipated,  as  the  Statistics  of  Imposture  advances,  and 
so  the  manufacturing  of  Shams  (that  of  Realities  rising  into 
clearer  and  clearer  distinction  therefrom)  gradually  declines, 
and  at  length  becomes  all  but  wholly  unnecessary  ! 

“This  for  the  coming  golden  ages.  What  I had  to  re- 
mark, for  the  present  brazen  one,  is,  that  in  several  prov- 
inces, as  in  Education,  Polity,  Religion,  where  so  much  is 
wanted  and  indispensable,  and  so  little  can  as  yet  be  fur- 
nished, probably  Imposture  is  of  sanative,  anodyne  nature, 
and  man’s  Gullibility  not  his  worst  blessing.  Suppose  your 
sinews  of  war  quite  broken ; I mean  your  military  chest 
insolvent,  forage  all  but  exhausted ; and  that  the  whole  army 
is  about  to  mutiny,  disband,  and  cut  your  and  each  other’s 
throat,  — then  were  it  not  well  could  you,  as  if  by  miracle, 
pay  them  in  any  sort  of  fairy-money,  feed  them  on  coagu- 
lated water,  or  mere  imagination  of  meat ; whereby,  till  the 
real  supply  came  up,  they  might  be  kept  together  and  quiet  ? 
Such  perhaps  was  the  aim  of  Nature,  who  does  nothing 
without  aim,  in  furnishing  her  favorite,  Man,  with  this  his  so 
omnipotent  or  rather  omnipatient  Talent  of  being  Gulled. 

“How  beautifully  it  works,  with  a little  mechanism;  nay, 
almost  makes  mechanism  for  itself ! These  Professors  in 
the  Nameless  lived  with  ease,  with  safety,  by  a mere  Repu- 
tation, constructed  in  past  times,  and  then  too  with  no 
great  effort,  by  quite  another  class  of  persons.  Which  Repu- 


Chai*.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


8? 


tation,  like  a strong  brisk-going  undershot  wheel,  sunk  into 
the  general  current,  bade  fair,  with  only  a little  annual  re- 
painting  on  their  part,  to  hold  long  together,  and  of  its  own 
accord  assiduously  grind  for  them.  Happy  that  it  was  so,  for 
the  Millers  ! They  themselves  needed  not  to  work ; their  at- 
tempts at  working,  at  what  they  called  Educating,  now  when 
I look  back  on  it,  fill  me  with  a certain  mute  admiration. 

“ Besides  all  this,  we  boasted  ourselves  a Rational  Uni- 
versity; in  the  highest  degree  hostile  to  Mysticism;  thus 
was  the  young  vacant  mind  furnished  with  much  talk  about 
Progress  of  the  Species,  Dark  Ages,  Prejudice,  and  the  like ; 
so  that  all  were  quickly  enough  blown  out  into  a state  of 
windy  argumentativeness ; whereby  the  better  sort  had  soon 
to  end  in  sick,  impotent  Scepticism ; the  worser  sort  explode 
(crepiren)  in  finished  Self-conceit,  and  to  all  spiritual  intents 
become  dead.  — But  this  too  is  portion  of  mankind’s  lot.  If 
our  era  is  the  Era  of  Unbelief,  why  murmur  under  it;  is 
there  not  a better  coming,  nay  come  ? As  in  long-drawn 
systole  and  long-drawn  diastole,  must  the  period  of  Faith 
alternate  with  the  period  of  Denial ; must  the  vernal  growth, 
the  summer  luxuriance  of  all  Opinions,  Spiritual  Represen- 
tations and  Creations,  be  followed  by,  and  again  follow,  the 
autumnal  decay,  the  winter  dissolution.  For  man  lives  in 
Time,  has  his  whole  earthly  being,  endeavor  and  destiny 
shaped  for  him  by  Time  : only  in  the  transitory  Time-Symbol 
is  the  ever-motionless  Eternity  we  stand  on  made  manifest. 
And  yet,  in  such  winter-seasons  of  Denial,  it  is  for  the  nobler- 
minded  perhaps  a comparative  misery  to  have  been  born,  and 
to  be  awake  and  work ; and  for  the  duller  a felicity,  if,  like 
hibernating  animals,  safe-lodged  in  some  Salamanca  Univer- 
sity, or  Sybaris  City,  or  other  superstitious  or  voluptuous 
Castle  of  Indolence,  they  can  slumber  through,  in  stupid 
dreams,  and  only  awaken  when  the  loud-roaring  hailstorms 
have  all  done  their  work,  and  to  our  prayers  and  martyrdoms 
the  new  Spring  has  been  vouchsafed.” 

That  in  the  environment,  here  mysteriously  enough  shad- 
owed forth,  Teufelsdrockh  must  have  felt  ill  at  ease,  cannot 
be  doubtful.  “ The  hungry  young,”  he  says,  “ looked  up  to 


88 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


their  spiritual  Nurses ; and,  for  food,  were  bidden  eat  the 
east-wind.  What  vain  jargon  of  controversial  Metaphysic, 
Etymology,  and  mechanical  Manipulation  falsely  named  Sci- 
ence, was  current  there,  I indeed  learned,  better  perhaps 
than  the  most.  Among  eleven  hundred  Christian  youths, 
there  will  not  be  wanting  some  eleven  eager  to  learn.  By 
collision  with  such,  a certain  warmth,  a certain  polish  was 
communicated ; by  instinct  and  happy  accident,  I took  less 
to  rioting  ( renommiren ),  than  to  thinking  and  reading,  which 
latter  also  I was  free  to  do.  Nay  from  the  chaos  of  that 
Library,  I succeeded  in  fishing  up  more  books  perhaps  than 
had  been  known  to  the  very  keepers  thereof.  The  foundation 
of  a Literary  Life  was  hereby  laid  : I learned,  on  my  own 
strength,  to  read  fluently  in  almost  all  cultivated  languages, 
on  almost  all  subjects  and  sciences;  farther,  as  man  is  ever 
the  prime  object  to  man,  already  it  was  my  favorite  employ- 
ment to  read  character  in  speculation,  and  from  the  Writing 
to  construe  the  Writer.  A certain  groundplan  of  Human 
Nature  and  Life  began  to  fashion  itself  in  me ; wondrous 
enough,  now  when  I look  back  on  it ; for  my  whole  Universe, 
physical  and  spiritual,  was  as  yet  a Machine  ! However,  such 
a conscious,  recognized  groundplan,  the  truest  I had,  was 
beginning  to  be  there,  and  by  additional  experiments  might 
be  corrected  and  indefinitely  extended.” 

Thus  from  poverty  does  the  strong  educe  nobler  wealth  ; 
thus  in  the  destitution  of  the  wild  desert  does  our  young  Ish- 
mael  acquire  for  himself  the  highest  of  all  possessions,  that 
of  Self-help.  Nevertheless  a desert  this  was,  waste,  and 
howling  with  savage  monsters.  Teufelsdrockh  gives  us  long 
details  of  his  “ fever-paroxysms  of  Doubt ; ” his  Inquiries  con- 
cerning Miracles,  and  the  Evidences  of  religious  Faith;  and 
how  “in  the  silent  night-watches,  still  darker  in  his  heart 
than  over  sky  and  earth,  he  has  cast  himself  before  the  All- 
seeing,  and  with  audible  prayers  cried  vehemently  for  Light, 
for  deliverance  from  Death  and  the  Grave.  Not  till  after  long 
years,  and  unspeakable  agonies,  did  the  believing  heart  sur- 
render ; sink  into  spell-bound  sleep,  under  the  nightmare,  Un- 
belief ; and,  in  this  hag-ridden  dream,  mistake  God’s  fair  living 


Chap.  III. 


PEDAGOGY. 


89 


world  for  a pallid,  vacant  Hades  and  extinct  Pandemonium. 
But  through  such  Purgatory  pain,”  continues  he,  “ it  is  ap- 
pointed us  to  pass  ; first  must  the  dead  Letter  of  Religion 
own  itself  dead,  and  drop  piecemeal  into  dust,  if  the  living 
Spirit  of  Religion,  freed  from  this  its  charnel-house,  is  to  arise 
on  us,  new-born  of  Pleaven,  and  with  new  healing  under  its 
wings.” 

To  which  Purgatory  pains,  seemingly  severe  enough,  if  we 
add  a liberal  measure  of  Earthly  distresses,  want  of  practical 
guidance,  want  of  sympathy,  want  of  money,  want  of  hope ; 
and  all  this  in  the  fervid  season  of  youth,  so  exaggerated  in 
imagining,  so  boundless  in  desires,  yet  here  so  poor  in  means, 
— do  we  not  see  a strong  incipient  spirit  oppressed  and  over- 
loaded from  without  and  from  within ; the  fire  of  genius  strug- 
gling up  among  fuel-wood  of  the  greenest,  and  as  yet  with 
more  of  bitter  vapor  than  of  clear  flame  ? 

From  various  fragments  of  Letters  and  other  documentary 
scraps,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  Teufelsdrockh,  isolated,  shy, 
retiring  as  he  was,  had  not  altogether  escaped  notice : certain 
established  men  are  aware  of  his  existence ; and,  if  stretching 
out  no  helpful  hand,  have  at  least  their  eyes  on  him.  He  ap- 
pears, though  in  dreary  enough  humor,  to  be  addressing  him- 
self to  the  Profession  of  Law ; — whereof,  indeed,  the  world 
has  since  seen  him  a public  graduate.  But  omitting  these 
broken,  unsatisfactory  thrums  of  Economical  relation,  let  us 
present  rather  the  following  small  thread  of  Moral  relation ; 
and  therewith,  the  reader  for  himself  weaving  it  in  at  the 
right  place,  conclude  our  dim  arras-picture  of  these  University 
years. 

“Here  also  it  was  that  I formed  acquaintance  with  Herr 
Towgood,  or,  as  it  is  perhaps  better  written,  Herr  Toughgut ; 
a young  person  of  quality  (yon  Adel),  from  the  interior  parts  of 
England.  He  stood  connected,  by  blood  and  hospitality,  with 
the  Counts  von  Zahdarm,  in  this  quarter  of  Germany ; to  which 
noble  Family  I likewise  was,  by  his  means,  with  all  friend- 
liness, brought  near.  Towgood  had  a fair  talent,  unspeaka- 
bly ill-cultivated ; with  considerable  humor  of  character : and, 
bating  his  total  ignorance,  for  he  knew  nothing  except  Boxing 


90 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


and  a little  Grammar,  showed  less  of  that  aristocratic  impassiv- 
ity, and  silent  fury,  than  for  most  part  belongs  to  Travellers  of 
his  nation.  To  him  I owe  my  first  practical  knowledge  of  the 
English  and  their  ways ; perhaps  also  something  of  the  par- 
tiality with  which  I have  ever  since  regarded  that  singular  peo- 
ple. Towgood  was  not  without  an  eye,  could  he  have  come  at 
any  light.  Invited  doubtless  by  the  presence  of  the  Zahdarm 
Family,  he  had  travelled  hither,  in  the  almost  frantic  hope  of 
perfecting  his  studies ; he,  whose  studies  had  as  yet  been  those 
of  infancy,  hither  to  a University  where  so  much  as  the  notion 
of  perfection,  not  to  say  the  effort  after  it,  no  longer  existed ! 
Often  we  would  condole  over  the  hard  destiny  of  the  Young  in 
this  era : how,  after  all  our  toil,  we  werS  to  be  turned  out  into 
the  world,  with  beards  on  Our  chins  indeed,  but  with  few  other 
attributes  of  manhood ; no  existing  thing  that  we  were  trained 
to  Act  on,  nothing  that  we  could  so  much  as  Believe.  1 How 
has  our  head  on  the  outside  a polished  Hat/  would  Towgood 
exclaim,  ‘and  in  the  inside  Vacancy,  or  a froth  of  Vocables 
and  Attorney-Logic ! At  a small  cost  men  are  educated  to 
make  leather  into  shoes ; but  at  a great  cost,  what  am  I edu- 
cated to  make  ? By  Heaven,  Brother ! what  I have  already 
eaten  and  worn,  as  I came  thus  far,  would  endow  a consider- 
able Hospital  of  Incurables.’  — ‘ Mail,  indeed/  I would  answer, 
6 has  a Digestive  Faculty,  which  must  be  kept  working,  were 
it  even  partly  by  stealth.  But  as  for  our  Miseducation,  make 
not  bad  worse ; waste  not  the  time  yet  ours,  in  trampling  on 
thistles  because  they  have  yielded  us  no  figs.  Frisch  zu}  Bru- 
der  ! Here  are  Books,  and  we  have  brains  to  read  them ; here 
is  a whole  Earth  and  a whole  Heaven,  and  we  have  eyes  to 
look  on  them  : Frisch  zu ! 1 

“ Often  also  our  talk  was  gay ; not  without  brilliancy,  and 
even  fire.  We  looked  out  on  Life,  with  its  strange  scaffolding, 
where  all  at  once  harlequins  dance,  and  men  are  beheaded  and 
quartered : motley,  not  unterrific  was  the  aspect ; but  we  looked 
on  it  like  brave  youths.  For  myself,  these  were  perhaps  my 
most  genial  hours.  Towards  this  young  warm-hearted,  strong- 
headed and  wrong-headed  Herr  Towgood  I was  even  near 
experiencing  the  now  obsolete  sentiment  of  Friendship.  Yes, 


Chap.  IV. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


91 


foolish  Heathen  that  I was,  I felt  that,  under  certain  condi- 
tions, I could  have  loved  this  man,  and  taken  him  to  my  bosom, 
and  been  his  brother  once  and  always.  By  degrees,  however, 
I understood  the  new  time,  and  its  wants.  If  man’s  Soul  is 
indeed,  as  in  the  Finnish  Language,  and  Utilitarian  Philosophy, 
a kind  of  Stomach , what  else  is  the  true  meaning  of  Spiritual 
Union  but  an  Eating  together  ? Thus  we,  instead  of  Friends, 
are  Dinner-guests;  and  here  as  elsewhere  have  cast  away 
chimeras.” 

So  ends,  abruptly  as  is  usual,  and  enigmatically,  this  little 
incipient  romance.  What  henceforth  becomes  of  the  brave 
Herr  Towgood,  or  Toughgut  ? He  has  dived  under,  in  the 
Autobiographical  Chaos,  and  swims  we  see  not  where.  Does 
any  reader  “ in  the  interior  parts  of  England  ” know  of  such  a 
man  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 

“ Thus  nevertheless,”  writes  our  Autobiographer,  apparently 
as  quitting  College,  “ was  there  realized  Somewhat ; namely,  I, 
Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh : a visible  Temporary  Figure  (, Zeitbild ), 
occupying  some  cubic  feet  of  Space,  and  containing  within  it 
Forces  both  physical  and  spiritual ; hopes,  passions,  thoughts ; 
the  whole  wondrous  furniture,  in  more  or  less  perfection,  be- 
longing to  that  mystery,  a Man.  Capabilities  there  were  in 
me  to  give  battle,  in  some  small  degree,  against  the  great  Em- 
pire of  Darkness  : does  not  the  very  Ditcher  and  Delver,  with 
his  spade,  extinguish  many  a thistle  and  puddle ; and  so  leave 
a little  Order,  where  he  found  the  opposite  ? Nay  your  very 
Day-moth  has  capabilities  in  this  kind ; and  ever  organizes 
something  (into  its  own  Body,  if  no  otherwise),  which  was 
before  Inorganic;  and  of  mute  dead  air  makes  living  music, 
though  only  of  the  faintest,  by  humming. 

“ How  much  more,  one  whose  capabilities  are  spiritual ; who 


92 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


has  learned,  or  begun  learning,  the  grand  thaumaturgic  art 
of  Thought ! Thaumaturgic  I name  it ; for  hitherto  all  Mira- 
cles have  been  wrought  thereby,  and  henceforth  innumerable 
will  be  wrought ; whereof  we,  even  in  these  days,  witness 
some.  Of  the  Poet’s  and  Prophet’s  inspired  Message,  and  how 
it  makes  and  unmakes  whole  worlds,  I shall  forbear  mention : 
but  cannot  the  dullest  hear  Steam-engines  clanking  around 
him  ? Has  he  not  seen  the  Scottish  Brass-smith’s  Idea  (and 
this  but  a mechanical  one)  travelling  on  fire-wings  round  the 
Cape,  and  across  two  Oceans ; and  stronger  than  any  other 
Enchanter’s  Familiar,  on  all  hands  unweariedly  fetching  and 
carrying  : at  home,  not  only  weaving  Cloth ; but  rapidly  enough 
overturning  the  whole  old  system  of  Society ; and,  for  Feu- 
dalism and  Preservation  of  the  Game,  preparing  us,  by  indirect 
but  sure  methods,  Industrialism  and  the  Government  of  the 
Wisest  ? Truly  a Thinking  Man  is  the  worst  enemy  the 
Prince  of  Darkness  can  have  ; every  time  such  a one  announces 
himself,  I doubt  not,  there  runs  a shudder  through  the  Nether 
Empire ; and  new  Emissaries  are  trained,  with  new  tactics,  to, 
if  possible,  entrap  him,  and  hoodwink  and  handcuff  him. 

“With  such  high  vocation  had  I too,  as  denizen  of  the 
Universe,  been  called.  Unhappy  it  is,  however,  that  though 
born  to  the  amplest  Sovereignty,  in  this  way,  with  no  less  than 
sovereign  right  of  Peace  and  War  against  the  Time-Prince 
(. Zeitfurst ),  or  Devil,  and  all  his  Dominions,  your  coronation- 
ceremony  costs  such  trouble,  your  sceptre  is  so  difficult  to  get 
at,  or  even  to  get  eye  on  ! ” 

By  which  last  wire-drawn  similitude  does  Teufelsdrockh 
mean  no  more  than  that  young  men  find  obstacles  in  what  we 
call  “ getting  under  way  ” ? “ Not  what  I Have,”  continues  he, 
“ but  what  I Do  is  my  Kingdom.  To  each  is  given  a certain 
inward  Talent,  a certain  outward  Environment  of  Fortune  ; to 
each,  by  wisest  combination  of  these  two,  a certain  maximum 
of  Capability.  But  the  hardest  problem  were  ever  this  first  : 
To  find  by  study  of  yourself,  and  of  the  ground  you  stand  on, 
what  your  combined  inward  and  outward  Capability  specially  is. 
For,  alas,  our  young  soul  is  all  budding  with  Capabilities,  and 
we  see  not  yet  which  is  the  main  and  true  one.  Always  too 


Chap.  IV. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


93 


the  new  man  is  in  a new  time,  under  new  conditions  ; his 
course  can  be  the  facsimile  of  no  prior  one,  but  is  by  its  nature 
original.  And  then  how  seldom  will  the  outward  Capability 
fit  the  inward  : though  talented  wonderfully . enough,  we  are 
poor,  unfriended,  dyspeptical,  bashful ; nay  what  is  worse  than 
all,  we  are  foolish.  Thus,  in  a whole  imbroglio  of  Capabilities, 
we  go  stupidly  groping  about,  to  grope  which  is  ours,  and  often 
clutch  the  wrong  one : in  this  mad  work  must  several  years  of 
our  small  term  be  spent,  till  the  purblind  Youth,  by  practice, 
acquire  notions  of  distance,  and  become  a seeing  Man.  Na y, 
many  so  spend  their  whole  term,  and  in  ever-new  expectation, 
ever-new  disappointment,  shift  from  enterprise  to  enterprise, 
and  from  side  to  side  : till  at  length,  as  exasperated  striplings 
of  threescore-and-ten,  they  shift  into  their  last  enterprise,  that 
of  getting  buried. 

“ Such,  since  the  most  of  us  are  too  ophthalmic,  would  be 
the  general  fate ; were  it  not  that  one  thing  saves  us : our 
Hunger.  For  on  this  ground,  as  the  prompt  nature  of  Hunger 
is  well  known,  must  a prompt  choice  be  made  : hence  have  we, 
with  wise  foresight,  Indentures  and  Apprenticeships  for  our 
irrational  young ; whereby,  in  due  season,  the  vague  univer- 
sality of  a Man  shall  find  himself  ready-moulded  into  a specific 
Craftsman ; and  so  thenceforth  work,  with  much  or  with  little 
waste  of  Capability  as  it  may  be;  yet  not  with  the  worst 
waste,  that  of  time.  Nay  even  in  matters  spiritual,  since  the 
spiritual  artist  too  is  born  blind,  and  does  not,  like  certain 
other  creatures,  receive  sight  in  nine  days,  but  far  later,  some- 
times never,  — is  it  not  well  that  there  should  be  what  we  call 
Professions,  or  Bread-studies  ( Brodzwecke ),  preappointed  us  ? 
Here,  circling  like  the  gin-horse,  for  whom  partial  or  total 
blindness  is  no  evil,  the  Bread-artist  can  travel  contentedly 
round  and  round,  still  fancying  that  it  is  forward  and  forward ; 
and  realize  much  : for  himself  victual ; for  the  world  an  addi- 
tional horse’s  power  in  the  grand  corn-mill  or  hemp-mill  of 
Economic  Society.  For  me  too  had  such  a leading-string  been 
provided ; only  that  it  proved  a neck-halter,  and  had  nigh 
throttled  me,  till  I broke  it  off.  Then,  in  the  words  of 
Ancient  Pistol,  did  the  world  generally  become  mine  oyster, 


94 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


which  I,  by  strength  or  cunning,  was  to  open,  as  I would  and 
could.  Almost  had  I deceased  (fast  war  ich  umgekommen) , so 
obstinately  did  it  continue  shut.” 

We  see  here,  significantly  foreshadowed,  the  spirit  of  much 
that  was  to  befall  our  Autobiographer ; the  historical  embodi- 
ment of  which,  as  it  painfully  takes  shape  in  his  Life,  lies  scat- 
tered, in  dim  disastrous  details,  through  this  Bag  Pisces , and 
those  that  follow.  A young  man  of  high  talent,  and  high  though 
still  temper,  like  a young  mettled  colt,  “ breaks  off  his  neck- 
halter,”  and  bounds  forth,  from  his  peculiar  manger,  into  the 
wide  world;  which,  alas,  he  finds  all  rigorously  fenced  in. 
Richest  clover-fields  tempt  his  eye ; but  to  him  they  are  for- 
bidden pasture  : either  pining  in  progressive  starvation,  he 
must  stand;  or,  in  mad  exasperation,  must  rush  to  and  fro, 
leaping  against  sheer  stone-walls,  which  he  cannot  leap  over, 
which  only  lacerate  and  lame  him ; till  at  last,  after  thousand 
attempts  and  endurances,  he,  as  if  by  miracle,  clears  his  way ; 
not  indeed  into  luxuriant  and  luxurious  clover,  yet  into  a 
certain  bosky  wilderness  where  existence  is  still  possible,  and 
Freedom,  though  waited  on  by  Scarcity,  is  not  without  sweet- 
ness. In  a word,  Teufelsdrockh  having  thrown  up  his  legal 
Profession,  finds  himself  without  landmark  of  outward  guid- 
ance ; whereby  his  previous  want  of  decided  Belief,  or  inward 
guidance,  is  frightfully  aggravated.  Necessity  urges  him  on ; 
Time  will  not  stop,  neither  can  he,  a Son  of  Time  ; wild  pas- 
sions without  solacement,  wild  faculties  without  employment, 
ever  vex  and  agitate  him.  He  too  must  enact  that  stern 
Monodrama,  No  Object  and  no  Pest ; must  front  its  successive 
destinies,  work  through  to  its  catastrophe,  and  deduce  there- 
from what  moral  he  can. 

Yet  let  us  be  just  to  him,  let  us  admit  that  his  “ neck- 
halter  ” sat  nowise  easy  on  him ; that  he  was  in  some  degree 
forced  to  break  it  off.  If  we  look  at  the  young  man’s  civic 
position,  in  this  Nameless  capital,  as  he  emerges  from  its 
Nameless  University,  we  can  discern  well  that  it  was  far 
from  enviable.  His  first  Law-Examination  he  has  come 
through  triumphantly ; and  can  even  boast  that  the  Examen 
Pigorosum  need  not  have  frightened  him  : but  though  he  is 


Chap.  IY. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


95 


hereby  “ an  Auscultator  of  respectability/’  what  avails  it  ? 
There  is  next  to  no  employment  to  be  had.  Neither,  for  a 
youth  without  connections,  is  the  process  of  Expectation  very 
hopeful  in  itself ; nor  for  one  of  his  disposition  much  cheered 
from  without.  “My  fellow  Auscultators,”  he  says,  “were 
Auscultators  : they  dressed,  and  digested,  and  talked  articulate 
words  ; other  vitality  showed  they  almost  none.  Small  specu- 
lation in  those  eyes,  that  they  did  glare  withal ! Sense  neither 
for  the  high  nor  for  the  deep,  nor  for  aught  human  or  divine, 
save  only  for  the  faintest  scent  of  coming  Preferment.”  In 
which  words,  indicating  a total  estrangement  on  the  part  of 
Teufelsdrockh,  may  there  not  also  lurk  traces  of  a bitterness 
as  from  wounded  vanity  ? Doubtless  these  prosaic  Ausculta- 
tors may  have  sniffed  at  him,  with  his  strange  ways ; and  tried 
to  hate,  and  what  was  much  more  impossible,  to  despise  him. 
Friendly  communion,  in  any  case,  there  could  not  be  : already 
has  the  young  Teufelsdrockh  left  the  other  young  geese ; 
and  swims  apart,  though  as  yet  uncertain  whether  he  himself 
is  cygnet  or  gosling. 

Perhaps,  too,  what  little  employment  he  had  was  performed 
ill,  at  best  unpleasantly.  “ Great  practical  method  and  ex- 
pertness ” he  may  brag  of ; but  is  there  not  also  great  practical 
pride,  though  deep-hidden,  only  the  deeper-seated  ? So  shy 
a man  can  never  have  been  popular.  We  figure  to  ourselves, 
how  in  those  days  he  may  have  played  strange  freaks  with  his 
independence,  and  so  forth : do  not  his  own  words  betoken  as 
much  ? “ Like  a very  young  person,  I imagined  it  was  with 

Work  alone,  and  not  also  with  Folly  and  Sin,  in  myself  and 
others,  that  I had  been  appointed  to  struggle.”  Be  this  as  it 
may,  his  progress  from  the  passive  Auscultatorship,  towards 
any  active  Assessorship,  is  evidently  of  the  slowest.  By  de- 
grees, those  same  established  men,  once  partially  inclined  to 
patronize  him,  seem  to  withdraw  their  countenance,  and  give 
him  up  as  “ a man  of  genius  • ” against  which  procedure  he,  in 
these  Papers,  loudly  protests.  “ As  if,”  says  he,  “ the  higher 
did  not  presuppose  the  lower ; as  if  he  who  can  fly  into 
heaven,  could  not  also  walk  post  if  he  resolved  on  it ! But  the 
world  is  an  old  woman,  and  mistakes  any  gilt  farthing  for  a 


96 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


gold  coin ; whereby  being  often  cheated,  she  will  thenceforth 
trust  nothing  but  the  common  copper.” 

How  our  winged  sky-messenger,  unaccepted  as  a terrestrial 
runner,  contrived,  in  the  mean  while,  to  keep  himself  from 
flying  skyward  without  return,  is  not  too  clear  from  these 
Documents.  Good  old  Gretchen  seems  to  have  vanished  from 
the  scene,  perhaps  from  the  Earth;  other  Horn  of  Plenty, 
or  even  of  Parsimony,  nowhere  flows  for  him ; so  that  “ the 
prompt  nature  of  Hunger  being  well  known/’  we  are  not  with- 
out our  anxiety.  From  private  Tuition,  in  never  so  many 
languages  and  sciences,  the  aid  derivable  is  small ; neither,  to 
use  his  own  words,  “ does  the  young  Adventurer  hitherto  sus- 
pect in  himself  any  literary  gift ; but  at  best  earns  bread-and- 
water  wages,  by  his  wide  faculty  of  Translation.  Nevertheless,” 
continues  he,  “ that  I subsisted  is  clear,  for  you  find  me  even 
now  alive.”  Which  fact,  however,  except  upon  the  principle 
of  our  true-hearted,  kind  old  Proverb,  that  “ there  is  always  life 
for  a living  one,”  we  must  profess  ourselves  unable  to  explain. 

Certain  Landlords’  Bills,  and  other  economic  Documents, 
bearing  the  mark  of  Settlement,  indicate  that  he  was  not 
without  money ; but,  like  an  independent  Hearth-holder,  if 
not  House-holder,  paid  his  way.  Here  also  occur,  among 
many  others,  two  little  mutilated  Notes,  which  perhaps  throw 
light  on  his  condition.  The  first  has  now  no  date,  or  writer’s 
name,  but  a huge  Blot ; and  runs  to  this  effect : “ The  (Ink- 
blot), tied  down  by  previous  promise,  cannotf'except  by  best 
wishes,  forward  the  Herr  Teufelsdrockh’s  views  on  the  Asses- 
sorship  in  question ; and  sees  himself  under  the  cruel  necessity 
of  forbearing,  for  the  present,  what  were  otherwise  his  duty 
and  joy,  to  assist  in  opening  the  career  for  a man  of  genius,  on 
whom  far  higher  triumphs  are  yet  waiting.”  The  other  is  on 
gilt  paper ; and  interests  us  like  a sort  of  epistolary  mummy 
now  dead,  yet  which  once  lived  and  beneficently  worked.  We 
give  it  in  the  original : “ Herr  I'eufelsdrockh  wird  von  der  Frau 
Gi'afinn,  auf  Donnerstag,  zum  ^Esthetischex  Thee  schonstens 
eingeladen .” 

Thus,  in  answer  to  a cry  for  solid  pudding,  whereof  there 
is  the  most  urgent  need,  comes,  epigrammatically  enough,  the 


Chap.  IV. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


97 


invitation  to  a wash  of  quite  fluid  TEsthetic  Tea ! How  Teu- 
felsdrockh, now  at  actual  hand-grips  with  Destiny  herself,  may 
have  comported  himself  among  these  Musical  and  Literary 
Dilettanti  of  both  sexes,  like  a hungry  lion  invited  to  a feast 
of  chickenweed,  we  can  only  conjecture.  Perhaps  in  expres- 
sive silence,  and  abstinence  : otherwise  if  the  lion,  in  such  case, 
is  to  feast  at  all,  it  cannot  be  on  the  chickenweed,  but  only  on 
the  chickens.  For  the  rest,  as  this  Prau  Grafinn  dates  from 
the  Zdhdarm  House,  she  can  be  no  other  than  the  Countess  and 
mistress  of  the  same ; whose  intellectual  tendencies,  and  good- 
will to  Teufelsdrockh,  whether  on  the  footing  of  Herr  Tow- 
good,  or  on  his  own  footing,  are  hereby  manifest.  That  some 
sort  of  relation,  indeed,  continued,  for  a time,  to  connect  our 
Autobiographer,  though  perhaps  feebly  enough,  with  this  noble 
House,  we  have  elsewhere  express  evidence.  Doubtless,  if  he 
expected  patronage,  it  was  in  vain ; enough  for  him  if  he  here 
obtained  occasional  glimpses  of  the  great  world,  from  which 
we  at  one  time  fancied  him  to  have  been  always  excluded. 
“ The  Zahdarms,”  says  he,  “ lived  in  the  soft,  sumptuous  gar- 
niture of  Aristocracy  ; whereto  Literature  and  Art,  attracted 
and  attached  from  without,  were  to  serve  as  the  handsomest 
fringing.  It  was  to  the  Gnadigen  Frau  (her  Ladyship)  that 
this  latter  improvement  was  due : assiduously  she  gathered, 
dexterously  she  fitted  on,  what  fringing  was  to  be  had ; lace 
or  cobweb,  as  the  place  yielded.”  Was  Teufelsdrockh  also  a 
fringe,  of  lace  or  cobweb  ; or  promising  to  be  such  ? “ With 

his  Excellent  (the  Count),”  continues  he,  “ I have  more  than 
once  had  the  honor  to  converse ; chiefly  on  general  affairs,  and 
the  aspect  of  the  world,  which  he,  though  now  past  middle 
life,  viewed  in  no  unfavorable  light ; finding  indeed,  except 
the  Outrooting  of  Journalism  (die  auszurottende  Journalistik), 
little  to  desiderate  therein.  On  some  points,  as  his  Excellenz 
was  not  uncholeric,  I found  it  more  pleasant  to  keep  silence. 
Besides,  his  occupation  being  that  of  Owning  Land,  there 
might  be  faculties  enough,  which,  as  superfluous  for  such  use, 
were  little  developed  in  him.” 

That  to  Teufelsdrockh  the  aspect  of  the  world  was  nowise 
so  faultless,  and  many  things  besides  “the  Outrooting  of 
VOL.  i.  7 


98 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


Journalism  ” might  have  seemed  improvements,  we  can  readily 
conjecture.  With  nothing  but  a barren  Auscultatorship  from 
without,  and  so  many  mutinous  thoughts  and  wishes  from 
within,  his  position  was  no  easy  one.  “ The  Universe/’  he 
says,  “ was  as  a mighty  Sphinx-riddle,  which  I knew  so  little 
of,  yet  must  rede,  or  be  devoured.  In  red  streaks  of  unspeak- 
able grandeur,  yet  also  in  the  blackness  of  darkness,  was  Life, 
to  my  too-unfurnished  Thought,  unfolding  itself.  A strange 
contradiction  lay  in  me  ; and  I as  yet  knew  not  the  solution  of 
it ; knew  not  that  spiritual  music  can  spring  only  from  dis- 
cords set  in  harmony ; that  but  for  Evil  there  were  no  Good, 
as  victory  is  only  possible  by  battle.” 

“ I have  heard  affirmed  (surely  in  jest),”  observes  he  else- 
where, “by  not  unphilanthropic  persons,  that  it  were  a real 
increase  of  human  happiness,  could  all  young  men  from  the 
age  of  nineteen  be  covered  under  barrels,  or  rendered  other- 
wise invisible ; and  there  left  to  follow  their  lawful  studies 
and  callings,  till  they  emerged,  sadder  and  wiser,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-five.  With  which  suggestion,  at  least  as  considered 
in  the  light  of  a practical  scheme,  I need  scarcely  say  that  I 
nowise  coincide.  Nevertheless  it  is  plausibly  urged  that,  as 
young  ladies  (Madchen)  are,  to  mankind,  precisely  the  most 
delightful  in  those  years  ; so  young  gentlemen  (Bubchen)  do 
then  attain  their  maximum  of  detestability.  Such  gawks 
( Gecken ) are  they,  and  foolish  peacocks,  and  yet  with  such  a 
vulturous  hunger  for  self-indulgence ; so  obstinate,  obstrep- 
erous, vain-glorious  ; in  all  senses,  so  froward  and  so  forward. 
No  mortal’s  endeavor  or  attainment  will,  in  the  smallest,  con- 
tent the  as  yet  unendeavoring,  unattaining  young  gentleman ; 
but  he  could  make  it  all  infinitely  better,  were  it  worthy  of 
him.  Life  everywhere  is  the  most  manageable  matter,  simple 
as  a question  in  the  Rule-of-Three  : multiply  your  second  and 
third  term  together,  divide  the  product  by  the  first,  and  your 
quotient  will  be  the  answer,  — which  you  are  but  an  ass  if  you 
cannot  come  at.  The  booby  has  not  yet  found  out,  by  any 
trial,  that,  do  what  one  will,  there  is  ever  a cursed  fraction, 
oftenest  a decimal  repeater,  and  no  net  integer  quotient  so 
much  as  to  be  thought  of.” 


Chap.  IV. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


99 


In  which,  passage  does  not  there  lie  an  implied  confession 
that  Teufelsdrockh  himself,  besides  his  outward  obstructions, 
had  an  inward,  still  greater,  to  contend  with ; namely,  a cer- 
tain temporary,  youthful,  yet  still  afflictive  derangement  of 
head  ? Alas,  on  the  former  side  alone,  his  case  was  hard 
enough.  “It  continues  ever  true,”  says  he,  “that  Saturn, 
or  Chronos,  or  what  we  call  Time,  devours  all  his  Children: 
only  by  incessant  Running,  by  incessant  Working,  may  you 
(for  some  threescore-and-ten  years)  escape  him ; and  you  too 
he  devours  at  last.  Can  any  Sovereign,  or  Holy  Alliance  of 
Sovereigns,  bid  Time  stand  still;  even  in  thought,  shake  them- 
selves free  of  Time  ? Our  whole  terrestrial  being  is  based  on 
Time,  and  built  of  Time ; it  is  wholly  a Movement,  a Time- 
impulse  ; Time  is  the  author  of  it,  the  material  of  it.  Hence 
also  our  Whole  Duty,  which  is  to  move,  to  work,  — in  the 
right  direction.  Are  not  our  Bodies  and  our  Souls  in  con- 
tinual movement,  whether  we  will  or  not ; in  a continual 
Waste,  requiring  a continual  Repair  ? Utmost  satisfaction  of 
our  whole  outward  and  inward  Wants  were  but  satisfaction 
for  a space  of  Time ; thus,  whatso  we  have  done,  is  done,  and 
for  us  annihilated,  and  ever  must  we  go  and  do  anew.  0 Time- 
Spirit,  how  hast  thou  environed  and  imprisoned  us,  and  sunk 
us  so  deep  in  thy  troublous  dim  Time-Element,  that  only  in 
lucid  moments  can  so  much  as  glimpses  of  our  upper  Azure 
Home  be  revealed  to  us ! Me,  however,  as  a Son  of  Time, 
unhappier  than  some  others,  was  Time  threatening  to  eat 
quite  prematurely;  for,  strive  as  I might,  there  was  no  good 
Running,  so  obstructed  was  the  path,  so  gyved  were  the  feet.” 
That  is  to  say,  we  presume,  speaking  in  the  dialect  of  this 
lower  world,  that  Teufelsdrockh’s  whole  duty  and  necessity 
was,  like  other  men’s,  “to  work,  — in  the  right  direction,”  and 
that  no  work  was  to  be  had;  whereby  he  became  wretched 
enough.  As  was  natural : with  haggard  Scarcity  threatening 
him  in  the  distance ; and  so  vehement  a soul  languishing  in 
restless  inaction,  and  forced  thereby,  like  Sir  Hudibras’s  sword 
by  rust, 


To  eat  into  itself,  for  lack 
Of  something  else  to  hew  and  hack ! 


100 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  IL 


But  on  the  whole,  that  same  “ excellent  Passivity,”  as  it  has 
all  along  done,  is  here  again  vigorously  flourishing  ; in  which 
circumstance  may  we  not  trace  the  beginnings  of  much  that 
now  characterizes  our  Professor ; and  perhaps,  in  faint  rudi- 
ments, the  origin  of  the  Clothe s-Philosophy  itself  ? Already 
the  attitude  he  has  assumed  towards  the  World  is  too  defen- 
sive ; not,  as  would  have  been  desirable,  a bold  attitude  of 
attack.  “ So  far  hitherto,”  he  says,  “ as  I had  mingled  with 
mankind,  I was  notable,  if  for  anything,  for  a certain  stillness 
of  manner,  which,  as  my  friends  often  rebukingly  declared, 
did  but  ill  express  the  keen  ardor  of  my  feelings.  I,  in  truth, 
regarded  men  with  an  excess  both  of  love  and  of  fear.  The 
mystery  of  a Person,  indeed,  is  ever  divine  to  him  that  has  a 
sense  for  the  Godlike.  Often,  notwithstanding,  was  I blamed, 
and  by  half-strangers  hated,  for  my  so-called  Hardness  ( Harte ), 
my  Indifferentism  towards  men ; and  the  seemingly  ironic  tone 
I had  adopted,  as  my  favorite  dialect  in  conversation.  Alas, 
the  panoply  of  Sarcasm  was  but  as  a buckram  case,  wherein  I 
had  striven  to  envelop  myself ; that  so  my  own  poor  Person 
might  live  safe  there,  and  in  all  friendliness,  being  no  longer 
exasperated  by  wounds.  Sarcasm  I now  see  to  be,  in  general, 
the  language  of  the  Devil ; for  which  reason  I have  long  since 
as  good  as  renounced  it.  But  how  many  individuals  did  I, 
in  those  days,  provoke  into  some  degree  of  hostility  thereby ! 
An  ironic  man,  with  his  sly  stillness,  and  ambuscading  ways, 
more  especially  an  ironic  young  man,  from  whom  it  is  least 
expected,  may  be  viewed  as  a pest  to  society.  Have  we  not 
seen  persons  of  weight  and  name  coming  forward,  with  gen- 
tlest indifference,  to  tread  such  a one  out  of  sight,  as  an  in- 
significancy and  worm,  start  ceiling-high  ( balkenhock ),  and 
thence  fall  shattered  and  supine,  to  be  borne  home  on  shut- 
ters, not  without  indignation,  when  he  proved  electric  and  a 
torpedo ! ” 

Alas,  how  can  a man  with  this  devilishness  of  temper  make 
way  for  himself  in  Life ; where  the  first  problem,  as  Teu- 
felsdrockh  too  admits,  is  “to  unite  yourself  with  some  one, 
and  with  somewhat  (sich  anzuschliessen ) ” ? Division,  not 
union,  is  written  on  most  part  of  his  procedure.  Let  us  add 


Chap.  IV. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


101 


too  tliat?  in  no  great  length  of  time,  the  only  important  con- 
nection he  had  ever  succeeded  in  forming,  his  connection  with 
the  Zahdarm  Family,  seems  to  have  been  paralyzed,  for  all 
practical  uses,  by  the  death  of  the  “ not  uncholeric  ” old  Count. 
This  fact  stands  recorded,  quite  incidentally,  in  a certain  Dis- 
course on  Epitaphs,  huddled  into  the  present  Bag,  among  so 
much  else  ; of  which  Essay  the  learning  and  curious  penetra- 
tion are  more  to  be  approved  of  than  the  spirit.  His  grand 
principle  is,  that  lapidary  inscriptions,  of  what  sort  soever, 
should  be  Historical  rather  than  Lyrical.  “ By  request  of  that 
worthy  Nobleman’s  survivors,”  says  he,  “I  undertook  to  com- 
pose his  Epitaph ; and  not  unmindful  of  my  own  rules,  pro- 
duced the  following ; which  however,  for  an  alleged  defect 
of  Latinity,  a defect  never  yet  fully  visible  to  myself,  still 
remains  unengraven;”  — wherein,  we  may  predict,  there  is 
more  than  the  Latinity  that  will  surprise  an  English  reader : 

HIC  JACET 

PHILIPPUS  ZAEHDARM,  COGNOMINE  MAGNUS, 

ZAEHDARMI  COMES, 

EX  IMPERII  CONCILIO, 

VELLERIS  AUREI,  PERISCELIDIS,  NECNON  VULTURIS  NIGRI 
EQUES. 

QUI  DUM  SUB  ,LUNA  AGEBAT, 

QUINQUIES  MILLE  PERDICES 

PLUMBO  CONFECIT  : 

VARII  CIBI 

CENTUMPONDIA  MILLIES  CENTENA  MILLIA, 

PER  SE,  PERQUE  SERVOS  QUADRUPEDES  BIPEDESVE, 

HAUD  SINE  TUMULTU  DEVOLVENS, 

IN  STERCUS 

PALAM  CONVERTIT. 

NUNC  A LABORE  REQUIESCENTEM 

OPERA  SEQUUNTUR. 

SI  MONUMENTUM  QU^ERIS, 

FIMETCM  ADSPICE. 

primum  in  orbe  dejecit  [sw&  dato ];  postremum  [su6  dato\. 


102 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROMANCE. 

“ For  long  years/’  writes  Teufelsdrockh,  “ had  the  poor 
Hebrew,  in  this  Egypt  of  an  Auscultatorship,  painfully  toiled, 
baking  bricks  without  stubble,  before  ever  the  question  once 
struck  him  with  entire  force:  For  what?  — Beym  Himmel! 
For  Food  and  Warmth ! And  are  Food  and  Warmth  nowhere 
else,  in  the  whole  wide  Universe,  discoverable?  — Come  of  it 
what  might,  I resolved  to  try.” 

Thus  then  are  we  to  see  him  in  a new  independent  capacity, 
though  perhaps  far  from  an  improved  one.  Teufelsdrockh  is 
now  a man  without  Profession.  Quitting  the  common  Fleet 
of  herring-busses  and  whalers,  where  indeed  his  leeward,  lag- 
gard condition  was  painful  enough,  he  desperately  steers  off, 
on  a course  of  his  own,  by  sextant  and  compass  of  his  own. 
Unhappy  Teufelsdrockh!  Though  neither  Fleet,  nor  Traffic, 
nor  Commodores  pleased  thee,  still  was  it  not  a Fleet , sailing 
in  prescribed  track,  for  fixed  objects  ; above  all,  in  combination, 
wherein,  by  mutual  guidance,  by  all  manner  of  loans  and  bor- 
rowings, each  could  manifoldly  aid  the  other  ? How  wilt  thou 
sail  in  unknown  seas  ; and  for  thyself  find  that  shorter  North- 
west Passage  to  thy  fair  Spice-country  of  a Nowhere?  — A 
solitary  rover,  on  such  a voyage,  with  such  nautical  tactics, 
will  meet  with  adventures.  Nay,  as  we  forthwith  discover,  a 
certain  Calypso-Island  detains  him  at  the  very  outset ; and  as 
it  were  falsifies  and  oversets  his  whole  reckoning. 

“If  in  youth,”  writes  he  once,  “the  Universe  is  majestically 
unveiling,  and  everywhere  Heaven  revealing  itself  on  Earth, 
nowhere  to  the  Young  Man  does  this  Heaven  on  Earth  so  im- 
mediately reveal  itself  as  in  the  Young  Maiden.  Strangely 
enough,  in  this  strange  life  of  ours,  it  has  been  so  appointed. 
On  the  whole,  as  I have  often  said,  a Person  ( Personlichkeit ) 


Chap.  V. 


ROMANCE. 


103 


is  ever  holy  to  us ; a certain  orthodox  Anthropomorphism  con- 
nects my  Me  with  all  Thees  in  bonds  of  Love  : but  it  is  in  this 
approximation  of  the  Like  and  Unlike,  that  such  heavenly  at- 
traction, as  between  Negative  and  Positive,  first  burns  out  into 
a flame.  Is  the  pitifullest  mortal  Person,  think  you,  indif- 
ferent to  us  ? Is  it  not  rather  our  heartfelt  wish  to  be  made 
one  with  him ; to  unite  him  to  us,  by  gratitude,  by  admiration, 
even  by  fear ; or  failing  all  these,  unite  ourselves  to  him  ? 
But  how  much  more,  in  this  case  of  the  Like-Unlike  ! Here 
is  conceded -us  the  higher  mystic  possibility  of  such  a union, 
the  highest  in  our  Earth;  thus,  in  the  conducting  medium  of 
Fantasy,  flames  forth  that  ^^-development  of  the  universal 
Spiritual  Electricity,  which,  as  unfolded  between  man  and 
woman,  we  first  emphatically  denominate  Love. 

“ In  every  well-conditioned  stripling,  as  I conjecture,  there 
already  blooms  a certain  prospective  Paradise,  cheered  ^y  some 
fairest  Eve ; nor,  in  the  stately  vistas,  and  flowerage  and  foliage 
of  that  Garden,  is  a Tree  of  Knowledge,  beautiful  and  awful 
in  the  midst  thereof,  wanting.  Perhaps  too  the  whole  is  but 
the  lovelier,  if  Cherubim  and  a Flaming  Sword  divide  it  from 
all  footsteps  of  men ; and  grant  him,  the  imaginative  stripling, 
only  the  view,  not  the  entrance.  Happy  season  of  virtuous 
youth,  when  shame  is  still  an  impassable  celestial  barrier  ; and 
the  sacred  air-cities  of  Hope  have  not  shrunk  into  the  mean 
clay-hamlets  of  Reality ; and  man,  by  his  nature,  is  yet  infinite 
and  free ! 

“As  for  our  young  Forlorn,”  continues  Teufelsdrockh,  evi- 
dently meaning  himself,  “ in  his  secluded  way  of  life,  and  with 
his  glowing  Fantasy,  the  more  fiery  that  it  burnt  under  cover, 
as  in  a reverberating  furnace,  his  feeling  towards  the  Queens 
of  this  Earth  was,  and  indeed  is,  altogether  unspeakable. 
A visible  Divinity  dwelt  in  them ; to  our  young  Friend  all 
women  were  holy,  were  heavenly.  As  yet  he  but  saw  them 
flitting  past,  in  their  many-colored  angel-plumage ; or  hovering 
mute  and  inaccessible  on  the  outskirts  of  ^Esthetic  Tea : all  of 
air  they  were,  all  Soul  and  Form ; so  lovely,  like  mysterious 
priestesses,  in  whose  hand  was  the  invisible  Jacob’s-ladder, 
whereby  man  might  mount  into  very  Heaven.  That  he,  our 


104 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


poor  Friend,  should  ever  win  for  himself  one  of  these  Grace- 
fuls ( Holden ) — Adi  Gott!  how  could  he  hope  it;  should  he 
not  have  died  under  it  ? There  was  a certain  delirious  vertigo 
in  the  thought. 

“ Thus  was  the  young  man,  if  all-sceptical  of  Demons  and 
Angels  such  as  the  vulgar  had  once  believed  in,  nevertheless 
not  unvisited  by  hosts  of  true  Sky-born,  who  visibly  and  au- 
dibly hovered  round  him  wheresoever  he  went ; and  they  had 
that  religious  worship  in  his  thought,  though  as  yet  it  was  by 
their  mere  earthly  and  trivial  name  that  he  named  them.  But 
now,  if  on  a soul  so  circumstanced,  some  actual  Air-maiden, 
incorporated  into  tangibility  and  reality,  should  cast  any  elec- 
tric glance  of  kind  eyes,  saying  thereby,  ‘ Thou  too  mayest 
love  and  be  loved  ; ’ and  so  kindle  him,  — good  Heaven,  what 
a volcanic,  earthquake-bringing,  all-consuming  fire  were  prob- 
ably kindled ! ” 

Such  a fire,  it  afterwards  appears,  did  actually  burst  forth, 
with  explosions  more  or  less  Yesuvian,  in  the  inner  man  of 
Herr  Diogenes  ; as  indeed  how  could  it  fail  ? A nature,  which, 
in  his  own  figurative  style,  we  might  say,  had  now  not  a little 
carbonized  tinder,  of  Irritability  ; with  so  much  nitre  of  latent 
Passion,  and  sulphurous  Humor  enough ; the  whole  lying  in 
such  hot  neighborhood,  close  by  “a  reverberating  furnace  of 
Fantasy : ” have  we  not  here  the  components  of  driest  Gun- 
powder, ready,  on  occasion  of  the  smallest  spark,  to  blaze  up  ? 
FTeither,  in  this  our  Life-element,  are  sparks  anywhere  wanting. 
Without  doubt,  some  Angel,  whereof  so  many  hovered  round, 
would  one  day,  leaving  “the  outskirts  of  JEsthetic  Tea”  flit 
nigher ; and,  by  electric  Promethean  glance,  kindle  no  des- 
picable firework.  Happy,  if  it  indeed  proved  a Firework,  and 
flamed  off  rocket-wise,  in  successive  beautiful  bursts  of  splen- 
dor, each  growing  naturally  from  the  other,  through  the  sev- 
eral stages  of  a happy  Youthful  Love ; till  the  whole  were 
safely  burnt  out ; and  the  young  soul  relieved  with  little  dam- 
age ! Happy,  if  it  did  not  rather  prove  a Conflagration  and 
mad  Explosion ; painfully  lacerating  the  heart  itself  ; nay  per- 
haps bursting  the  heart  in  pieces  (which  were  Death) ; or  at 
best,  bursting  the  thin  walls  of  your  “ reverberating  furnace/’ 


Chap.  V. 


ROMANCE. 


105 


so  that  it  rage  thenceforth  all  unchecked  among  the  contigu- 
ous combustibles  (which  were  Madness) : till  of  the  so  fair 
and  manifold  internal  world  of  our  Diogenes,  there  remained 
Nothing,  or  only  the  “ crater  of  an  extinct  volcano  ” ! 

From  multifarious  Documents  in  this  Bag  Capricornus,  and 
in  the  adjacent  ones  on  both  sides  thereof,  it  becomes  mani- 
fest that  our  philosopher,  as  stoical  and  cynical  as  he  now 
looks,  was  heartily  and  even  frantically  in  Love : here  there- 
fore may  our  old  doubts  whether  his  heart  were  of  stone  or  of 
flesh  give  way.  He  loved  once  ; not  wisely  but  too  well.  And 
once  only  : for  as  your  Congreve  needs  a new  case  or  wrappage 
for  every  new  rocket,  so  each  human  heart  can  properly  exhibit 
but  one  Love,  if  even  one  ; the  “ First  Love  which  is  infinite  ” 
can  be  followed  by  no  second  like  unto  it.  In  more  recent 
years,  accordingly,  the  Editor  of  these  Sheets  was  led  to  regard 
Teufelsdrockh  as  a man  not  only  who  would  never  wed,  but 
who  would  never  even  flirt ; whom  the  grand-climacteric  itself, 
and  St.  Martin’s  Summer  of  incipient  Dotage,  would  crown 
with  no  new  myrtle-garland.  To  the  Professor,  women  are 
henceforth  Pieces  of  Art ; of  Celestial  Art,  indeed ; which 
celestial  pieces  he  glories  ^o  survey  in  galleries,  but  has  lost 
thought  of  purchasing. 

Psychological  readers  are  not  without  curiosity  to  see  how 
Teufelsdrockh,  in  this  for  him  unexampled  predicament,  de- 
means himself;  with  what  specialties  of  successive  configu- 
ration, splendor  and  color,  his  Firework  blazes  off.  Small,  as 
usual,  is  the  satisfaction  that  such  can  meet  with  here.  From 
amid  these  confused  masses  of  Eulogy  and  Elegy,  with  their 
mad  Petrarchan  and  Werterean  ware  lying  madly  scattered 
among  all  sorts  of  quite  extraneous  matter,  not  so  much  as  the 
fair  one’s  name  can  be  deciphered.  For,  without  doubt,  the 
title  Blumine , whereby  she  is  here  designated,  and  which  means 
simply  Goddess  of  Flowers,  must  be  fictitious.  Was  her  real 
name  Flora,  then  ? But  what  was  her  surname,  or  had  she 
none  ? Of  what  station  m Life  was  she ; of  what  parentage, 
fortune,  aspect  ? Specially,  by  what  Pre-established  Harmony 
of  occurrences  did  the  Lover  and  the  Loved  meet  one  another 
in  so  wide  a world ; how  did  they  behave  in  such  meeting  ? 


106 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


To  all  which  questions,  not  unessential  in  a Biographic  work, 
mere  Conjecture  must  for  most  part  return  answer.  “ It  was 
appointed,’’  says  our  Philosopher,  “that  the  high  celestial 
orbit  of  Blumine  should  intersect  the  low  sublunary  one  of  our 
Forlorn ; that  he,  looking  i-n  her  empyrean  eyes,  should  fancy 
the  upper  Sphere  of  Light  was  come  down  into  this  nether 
sphere  of  Shadows  ; and  finding  himself  mistaken,  make  noise 
enough.” 

We  seem  to  gather  that  she  was  young,  hazel-eyed,  beautiful, 
and  some  one’s  Cousin ; high-born,  and  of  high  spirit ; but  un- 
happily dependent  and  insolvent ; living,  perhaps,  on  the  not 
too  gracious  bounty  of  moneyed  relatives.  But  how  came  “the 
Wanderer”  into  her  circle  ? Was  it  by  the  humid  vehicle  of 
JEsthetic  Tea , or  by  the  arid  one  of  mere  Business  ? Was  it 
on^he  hand  of  Herr  Towgood ; or  of  the  Gnadige  Frau,  who, 
as  an  ornamental  Artist,  might  sometimes  like  to  promote 
flirtation,  especially  for  young  cynical  Nondescripts  ? To 
all  appearance,  it  was  chiefly  by  Accident,  and  the  grace  of 
Nature. 

“ Thou  fair  Waldschloss,”  writes  our  Autobiographer,  “what 
stranger  ever  saw  thee,  were  it  ev^n  an  absolved  Auscultator, 
officially  bearing  in  his  pocket  the  last  Relatio  ex  Actis  he 
would  ever  write,  but  must  have  paused  to  wonder ! Noble 
Mansion!  There  stoodest  thou,  in  deep  Mountain  Amphi- 
theatre, on  umbrageous  lawns,  in  thy  serene  solitude ; stately, 
massive,  all  of  granite ; glittering  in  the  western  sunbeams, 
like  a palace  of  El  Dorado,  overlaid  with  precious  metal.  Beau- 
tiful rose  up,  in  wavy  curvature,  the  slope  of  thy  guardian 
Hills;  of  the  greenest  was  their  sward,  embossed  with  its 
dark-brown  frets  of  crag,  or  spotted  by  some  spreading  solitary 
Tree  and  its  shadow.  To  the  unconscious  Wayfarer  thou  wert 
also  as  an  Ammon’s  Temple,  in  the  Libyan  Waste;  where,  for 
joy  and  woe,  the  tablet  of  his  Destiny  lay  written.  Well  might 
he  pause  and  gaze ; in  that  glance  of  his  were  prophecy  and 
nameless  forebodings.” 

But  now  let  us  conjecture  that  the  so  presentient  Auscultator 
has  handed  in  his  Relatio  ex  Actis  ; been  invited  to  a glass  of 
Rhine-wine  ; and  so,  instead  of  returning  dispirited  and  athirst 


Chap.  V. 


ROMANCE. 


107 


to  his  dusty  Town-home,  is  ushered  into  the  Garden-house, 
where  sit  the  choicest  party  of  dames  and  cavaliers  : if  not 
engaged  in  ^Esthetic  Tea,  yet  in  trustful  evening  conversation, 
and  perhaps  Musical  Coffee,  for  we  hear  of  “ harps  and  pure 
voices  making  the  stillness  live.7’  Scarcely,  it  would  seem,  is 
the  Garden-house  inferior  in  respectability  to  the  noble  Mansion 
itself.  “ Embowered  amid  rich  foliage,  rose-clusters,  and  the 
hues  and  odors  of  thousand  flowers,  here  sat  that  brave  com- 
pany ; in  front,  from  the  wide-opened  doors,  fair  outlook  over 
blossom  and  bush,  over  grove  and  velvet  green,  stretching^ 
undulating  onwards  to  the  remote  Mountain  peaks  : so  bright, 
so  mild,  and  everywhere  the  melody  of  birds  and  happy  crea- 
tures : it  was  all  as  if  man  had  stolen  a shelter  from  the  Sun 
in  the  bosom-vesture  of  Summer  herself.  How  came  it  that 
the  Wanderer  advanced  thither  with  such  forecasting  heart 
( ahndungsvoll ),  by  the  side  of  his  gay  host  ? Did  he  feel  that 
to  these  soft  influences  his  hard  bosom  ought  to  be  shut ; 
that  here,  once  more,  Fate  had  it  in  view  to  try  him ; to  mock 
him,  and  see  whether  there  were  Humor  in  him  ? 

“Next  moment  he  finds  himself  presented  to  the  garty ; and 
especially  by  name  to  — Blumine  ! Peculiar  among  all  dames 
and  damosels  glanced  Blumine,  there  in  her  modesty,  like  a 
star  among  earthly  lights.  Noblest  maiden!  whom  he  bent 
to,  in  body  and  in  soul;  yet  scarcely  dared  look  at,  for  the 
presence  filled  him  with  painful  yet  sweetest  embarrassment. 

“ Blumine’s  was  a name  well  known  to  him  ; far  and  wide 
was  the  fair  one  heard  of,  for  her  gifts,  her  graces,  her  caprices  : 
from  all  which  vague  colorings  of  Rumor,  from  the  censures 
no  less  than  from  the  praises,  had  our  friend  painted  for  him- 
self a certain  imperious  Queen  of  Hearts,  and  blooming  warm 
Earth-angel,  much  more  enchanting  than  your  mere  white 
Heaven-angels  of  women,  in  whose  placid  veins  circulates  too 
little  naphtha-fire.  Herself  also  he  had  seen  in  public  places  ; 
that  light  yet  so  stately  form;  those  dark  tresses,  shading  a 
face  where  smiles  and  sunlight  played  over  earnest  deeps  : but 
all  this  he  had  seen  only  as  a magic  vision,  for  him  inaccessible, 
almost  without  reality.  Her  sphere  was  too  far  from  his  ; how 
should  she  ever  think  of  him ; 0 Heaven  ! how  should  they  so 


108 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II 


much  as  once  meet  together  ? And  now  that  Rose-goddess 
sits  in  the  same  circle  with  him ; the  light  of  her  eyes  has 
smiled  on  him ; if  he  speak,  she  will  hear  it ! FTa y,  who  knows, 
since  the  heavenly  Sun  looks  into  lowest  valleys,  but  Blumine 
herself  might  have  aforetime  noted  the  so  unnotable  ; perhaps, 
from  his  very  gainsayers,  as  he  had  from  hers,  gathered  won- 
der, gathered  favor  for  him  ? Was  the  attraction,  the  agitation 
mutual,  then ; pole  and  pole  trembling  towards  contact,  when 
once  brought  into  neighborhood  ? Say  rather,  heart  swelling 
in  presence  of  the  Queen  of  Hearts;  like  the  Sea  swelling 
when  once  near  its  Moon ! With  the  Wanderer  it  was  even 
so  : as  in  heavenward  gravitation,  suddenly  as  at  the  touch 
of  a Seraph’s  wand,  his  whole  soul  is  roused  from  its  deepest 
recesses ; and  all  that  was  painful  and  that  was  blissful  there, 
dim  images,  vague  feelings  of  a whole  Past  and  a whole  Future, 
are  heaving  in  unquiet  eddies  within  him. 

“ Often,  in  far  less  agitating  scenes,  had  our  still  Friend 
shrunk  forcibly  together;  and  shrouded  up  his  tremors  and 
flutterings,  of  what  sort  soever,  in  a safe  cover  of  Silence,  and 
perhaps  of  seeming  Stolidity.  How  was  it,  then,  that  here, 
when  trembling  to  the  core  of  his  heart,  he  did  not  sink  into 
swoons,  but  rose  into  strength,  into  fearlessness  and  clearness  ? 
It  was  his  guiding  Genius  (Damon)  that  inspired  him;  he 
must  go  forth  and  meet  his  Destiny.  Show  thyself  now,  whis- 
pered it,  or  be  forever  hid.  Thus  sometimes  it  is  even  when 
your  anxiety  becomes  transcendental,  that  the  soul  first  feels 
herself  able  to  transcend  it ; that  she  rises  above  it,  in  fiery 
victory ; and  borne  on  new-found  wings  of  victory,  moves  so 
calmly,  even  because  so  rapidly,  so  irresistibly.  Always  must 
the  Wanderer  remember,  with  a certain  satisfaction  and  sur- 
prise, how  in  this  case  he  sat  not  silent,  but  struck  adroitly 
into  the  stream  of  conversation ; which  thenceforth,  to  speak 
with  an  apparent  not  a real  vanity,  he  may  say  that  he  con- 
tinued to  lead.  Surely,  in  those  hours,  a certain  inspiration 
was  imparted  him,  such  inspiration  as  is  still  possible  in  our 
late  era.  The  self-secluded  unfolds  himself  in  noble  thoughts, 
in  free,  glowing  words ; his  soul  is  as  one  sea  of  light,  the 
peculiar  home  of  Truth  and  Intellect;  wherein  also  Fan- 


ROMANCE. 


Chap.  V. 


109 


tasy  bodies  forth  form  after  form,  radiant  with  all  prismatic 
hues.” 

It  appears,  in  this  otherwise  so  happy  meeting,  there  talked 
one  “ Philistine ; ” who  even  now,  to  the  general  weariness, 
was  dominantly  pouring  forth  Philistinism  ( Philistriositaten ) ; 
little  witting  what  hero  was  here  entering  to  demolish  him ! 
We  omit  the  series  of  Socratic,  or  rather  Diogenic  utterances, 
not  unhappy  in  their  way,  whereby  the  monster,  “ persuaded 
into  silence,”  seems  soon  after  to  have  withdrawn^  for  the 
night.  “ Of  which  dialectic  marauder,”  writes  our  hero,  “ the 
discomfiture  was  visibly  felt  as  a benefit  by  most : but  what 
were  all  applauses  to  the  glad  smile,  threatening  every  moment 
to  become  a laugh,  wherewith  Blumine  herself  repaid  the 
victor  ? He  ventured  to  address  her,  she  answered  with  at- 
tention : nay  what  if  there  were  a slight  tremor  in  that  silver 
voice ; what  if  the  red  glow  of  evening  were  hiding  a transient 
blush ! 

“The  conversation  took  a higher  tone,  one  fine  thought 
called  forth  another : it  was  one  of  those  rare  seasons,  when 
the  soul  expands  with  full  freedom,  and  man  feels  himself 
brought  near  to  man.  Gayly  in  light,  graceful  abandonment, 
the  friendly  talk  played  round  that  circle ; for  the  burden  was 
rolled  from  every  heart ; the  barriers  of  Ceremony,  which  are 
indeed  the  laws  of  polite  living,  had  melted  as  into  vapor ; 
and  the  poor  claims  of  Me  and  Thee,  no  longer  parted  by  rigid 
fences,  now  flowed  softly  into  one  another;  and  Life  lay  all 
harmonious,  many-tinted,  like  some  fair  royal  champaign,  the 
sovereign  and  owner  of  which  were  Love  only.  Such  music 
springs  from  kind  hearts,  in  a kind  environment  of  place  and 
time.  And  yet  as  the  light  grew  more  aerial  on  the  mountain- 
tops,  and  the  shadows  fell  longer  over  the  valley,  some  faint 
tone  of  sadness  may  have  breathed  through  the  heart ; and,  in 
whispers  more  or  less  audible,  reminded  every  one  that  as  this 
bright  day  was  drawing  towards  its  close,  so  likewise  must 
the  Day  of  Man’s  Existence  decline  into  dust  and  darkness ; 
and  with  all  its  sick  toilings,  and  joyful  and  mournful  noises, 
sink  in  the  still  Eternity. 

“ To  our  Friend  the  hours  seemed  moments ; holy  was  he 


110 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


and  happy : the  words  from  those  sweetest  lips  came  over 
him  like  dew  on  thirsty  grass  ; all  better  feelings  in  his  soul 
seemed  to  whisper,  It  is  good  for  ns  to  be  here.  At  parting, 
the  Blumine’s  hand  was  in  his : in  the  balmy  twilight,  with 
the  kind  stars  above  them,  he  spoke  something  of  meeting 
again,  which  was  not  contradicted ; he  pressed  gently  those 
small  soft  fingers,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  not  hastily, 
not  angrily  withdrawn.” 

Poor  Teufelsdrockh ! it  is  clear  to  demonstration  thou  art 
smit : the  Queen  of  Hearts  would  see  a “ man  of  genius  ” also 
sigh  for  her ; and  there,  by  art-magic,  in  that  preternatural 
hour,  has  she  bound  and  spell-bound  thee,  “ Love  is  not  alto- 
gether a Delirium,”  says  he  elsewhere ; “yet  has  it  many 
points  in  common  therewith.  I call  it  rather  a discerning  of 
the  Infinite  in  the  Finite,  of  the  Idea  made  Real ; which  dis- 
cerning again  may  be  either  true  or  false,  either  seraphic  or 
demoniac,  Inspiration  or  Insanity.  But  in  the  former  case 
too,  as  in  common  Madness,  it  is  Fantasy  that  superadds  it- 
self to  sight ; on  the  so  petty  domain  of  the  Actual  plants  its 
Archimedes-lever,  whereby  to  move  at  will  the  infinite  Spiritual. 
Fantasy  I might  call  the  true  Heaven-gate  and  Hell-gate  of 
man : his  sensuous  life  is  but  the  small  temporary  stage  ( Zeit - 
biihne ),  whereon  thick-streaming  influences  from  both  these 
far  yet  near  regions  meet  visibly,  and  act  tragedy  and  melo- 
drama. Sense  can  support  herself  handsomely,  in  most  coun- 
tries, for  some  eighteenpence  a day ; but  for  Fantasy  planets 
and  solar-systems  will  not  suffice.  Witness  your  Pyrrhus  con- 
quering the  world,  yet  drinking  no  better  red  wine  than  he 
had  before.”  Alas  ! witness  also  your  Diogenes,  flame-clad, 
scaling  the  upper  Heaven,  and  verging  towards  Insanity,  for 
prize  ol  a “ high-souled  Brunette,”  as  if  the  Earth  held  but 
one  and  not  several  of  these ! 

He  says  that,  in  Town,  they  met  again : “ day  after  day, 
like  his  heart’s  sun,  the  blooming  Blumine  shone  on  him. 
Ah ! a little  while  ago,  and  he  was  yet  in  all  darkness : him 
what  Graceful  (Holde)  would  ever  love  ? Disbelieving  all 
things,  the  poor  youth  had  never  learned  to  believe  in  him- 
self. Withdrawn,  in  proud  timidity,  within  his  own  fastnesses ; 


Chap.  V. 


ROMANCE. 


Ill 


solitary  from  men,  yet  baited  by  night-spectres  enough,  he  saw 
himself,  with  a sad  indignation,  constrained  to  renounce  the 
fairest  hopes  of  existence.  And  now,  0 now  ! ‘ She  looks  on 
thee/  cried  he : ‘ she  the  fairest,  noblest ; do  not  her  dark 
eyes  tell  thee,  thou  art  not  despised  ? The  Heaven’s-Messen- 
ger ! All  Heaven’s  blessings  be  hers  ! ’ Thus  did  soft  melo- 
dies flow  through  his  heart ; tones  of  an  infinite  gratitude ; 
sweetest  intimations  that  he  also  was  a man,  that  for  him  also 
unutterable  joys  had  been  provided. 

“ In  free  speech,  earnest  or  gay,  amid  lambent  glances,  laugh- 
ter, tears,  and  often  with  the  inarticulate  mystic  speech  of 
Music : such  was  the  element  they  now  lived  in ; in  such  a 
many-tinted,  radiant  Aurora,  and  by  this  fairest  of  Orient 
Light-bringers  must  our  Friend  be  blandished,  and  the  new 
Apocalypse  of  Nature  unrolled  to  him.  Fairest  Blumine  ! 
And,  even  as  a Star,  all  Fire  and  humid  Softness,  a very 
Light-ray  incarnate!  Was  there  so  much  as  a fault,  a ‘ca- 
price/ he  could  have  dispensed  with  ? Was  she  not  to  him 
in  very  deed  a Morning-star ; did  not  her  presence  bring  with 
it  airs  from  Heaven  ? As  from  HColian  Harps  in  the  breath 
of  dawn,  as  from  the  Memnon’s  Statue  struck  by  the  rosy 
finger  of' Aurora,  unearthly  music  was  around  him,  and  lapped 
him  into  untried  balmy  Rest.  Pale  Doubt  fled  away  to  the 
distance ; Life  bloomed  up  with  happiness  and  hope.  The 
past,  then,  was  all  a haggard  dream;  he  had  been  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  then,  and  could  not  discern  it ! But  lo  now ! 
the  black  walls  of  his  prison  melt  away ; the  captive  is  alive, 
is  free.  If  he  loved  his  Disenchantress  ? Ach  Gott ! His 
whole  heart  and  soul  and  life  were  hers,  but  never  had  he 
named  it  Love : existence  was  all  a Feeling,  not  yet  shaped 
into  a Thought.” 

Nevertheless,  into  a Thought,  nay  into  an  Action,  it  must 
be  shaped ; for  neither  Disenchanter  nor  Disenchantress,  mere 
“ Children  of  Time,”  can  abide  by  Feeling  alone.  The  Pro- 
fessor knows  not,  to  this  day,  “ how  in  her  soft,  fervid  bosom 
the  Lovely  found  determination,  even  on  hest  of  Necessity,  to 
cut  asunder  these  so  blissful  bonds.”  He  even  appears  sur- 
prised at  the  “ Duenna  Cousin,”  whoever  she  may  have  been, 


112 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


“ in  whose  meagre  hunger-bitten  philosophy,  the  religion  of 
young  hearts  was,  from  the  first,  faintly  approved  of.”  We, 
even  at  such  distance,  can  explain  it  without  necromancy. 
Let  the  Philosopher  answer  this  one  question : What  figure, 
at  that  period,  was  a Mrs.  Teufelsdrockh  likely  to  make  in 
polished  society  ? Could  she  have  driven  so  much  as  a brass- 
bound  Gig,  or  even  a simple  iron-spring  one  ? Thou  foolish 
“ absolved  Auscultator,”  before  whom  lies  no  prospect  of  capi- 
tal, will  any  yet  known  “ religion  of  young  hearts  ” keep  the 
human  kitchen  warm  ? Pshaw ! thy  divine  Blumine,  when 
she  “ resigned  herself  to  wed  some  richer,”  shows  more  phi- 
losophy, though  but  “ a woman  of  genius,”  than  thou,  a pre- 
tended man. 

Our  readers  have  witnessed  the  origin  of  this  Love-mania, 
and  with  what  royal  splendor  it  waxes,  and  rises.  Let  no  one 
ask  us  to  unfold  the  glories  of  its  dominant  state  ; much  less 
the  horrors  of  its  almost  instantaneous  dissolution.  How 
from  such  inorganic  masses,  henceforth  madder  than  ever,  as 
lie  in  these  Bags,  can  even  fragments  of  a living  delineation 
be  organized  ? Besides,  of  what  profit  were  it  ? We  view, 
with  a lively  pleasure,  the  gay  silk  Montgolfier  start  from  the 
ground,  and  shoot  upwards,  cleaving  the  liquid  deeps,  till  it 
dwindle  to  a luminous  star  : but  what  is  there  to  look  longer 
on,  when  once,  by  natural  elasticity,  or  accident  of  fire,  it  has 
exploded  ? A hapless  air-navigator,  plunging,  amid  torn  para- 
chutes, sand-bags,  and  confused  wreck,  fast  enough  into  the 
jaws  of  the  Devil ! Suffice  it  to  know  that  Teufelsdrockh  rose 
into  the  highest  regions  of  the  Empyrean,  by  a natural  para- 
bolic track,  and  returned  thence  in  a quick  perpendicular  one. 
For  the  rest,  let  any  feeling  reader,  who  has  been  unhappy 
enough  to  do  the  like,  paint  it  out  for  himself : considering 
only  that  if  he,  for  his  perhaps  comparatively  insignificant 
mistress,  underwent  such  agonies  and  frenzies,  what  must 
Teufelsdrockh’s  have  been,  with  a fire-heart,  and  for  a nonpa- 
reil Blumine  ! We  glance  merely  at  the  final  scene  : — 

“ One  morning,  he  found  his  Morning-star  all  dimmed  and 
dusky-red;  the  fair  creature  was  silent,  absent,  she  seemed 
to  have  been  weeping.  Alas,  no  longer  a Morning-star,  but  a 


Chap.  VI. 


SORROWS  OF  TEUFELSDROCKH. 


113 


troublous  skyey  Portent,  announcing  that  the  Doomsday  had 
dawned ! She  said,  in  a tremulous  voice,  They  were  to  meet 
no  more.”  The  thunder-struck  Air-sailor  is  not  wanting  to 
himself  in  this  dread  hour  : but  what  avails  it  ? We  omit  the 
passionate  expostulations,  entreaties,  indignations,  since  all 
was  vain,  and  not  even  an  explanation  was  conceded  him ; and 
hasten  to  the  catastrophe.  “ 1 Farewell,  then,  Madam  ! ’ said 
he,  not  without  sternness,  for  his  stung  pride  helped  him.  She 
put  her  hand  in  his,  she  .looked  in  his  face,  tears  started  to  her 
eyes ; in  wild  audacity  he  clasped  her  to  his  bosom ; their  lips 
were  joined,  their  two  souls,  like  two  dew-drops,  rushed  into  one, 
— for  the  first  time  and  for  the  last ! ” Thus  .was  Teufelsdrockh 
made  immortal  by  a kiss.  And  then?  Why,  then  — u thick 
curtains  of  Night  rushed  over  his  soul,  as  rose  the  immeasu- 
rable Crash  of  Doom ; and  through  the  ruins  as  of  a shivered 
Universe  was  he  falling,  falling,  towards  the  Abyss.” 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SORROWS  OF  TEUFELSDROCKH. 

We  have  long  felt  that,  with  a man  like  our  Professor, 
matters  must  often  be  expected  to  take  a course  of  their  own ; 
that  in  so  multiplex,  intricate  a nature,  there  might  be  chan- 
nels, both  for  admitting  and  emitting,  such  as  the  Psychologist 
had  seldom  noted;  in  short,  that  on  no  grand  occasion  and 
convulsion,  neither  in  the  joy-storm  nor  in  the  woe-storm, 
could  you  predict  his  demeanor. 

To  our  less  philosophical  readers,  for  example,  it  is  now  clear 
that  the  so  passionate  Teufelsdrockh,  precipitated  through  u a 
shivered  Universe  ” in  this  extraordinary  way,  has  only  one  of 
three  things  which  he  can  next  do : Establish  himself  in  Bed- 
lam; begin  writing  Satanic  Poetry;  or  blow  out  his  brains. 
In  the  progress  towards  any  of  which  consummations,  do  not 
such  readers  anticipate  extravagance  enough ; breast-beating, 
brow-beating  (against  walls),  lion-bellowings  of  blasphemy  and 

VOL.  i.  8 


114 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


the  like,  stampings,  smitings,  breakages  of  furniture,  if  not 
arson  itself? 

Nowise  so  does  Teufelsdrockh  deport  him.  He  quietly  lifts 
his  Pilgerstab  (Pilgrim-staff),  “ old  business  being  soon  wound 
up;”  and  begins  a perambulation  and  circumambulation  of 
the  terraqueous  Globe ! Curious  it  is,  indeed,  how  with  such 
vivacity  of  conception,  such  intensity  of  feeling,  above  all, 
with  these  unconscionable  habits  of  Exaggeration  in  speech, 
he  combines  that  wonderful  stillness  of  his,  that  stoicism  in 
external  procedure.  Thus,  if  his  sudden  bereavement,  in  this 
matter  of  the  Flower-goddess,  is  talked  of  as  a real  Doomsday 
and  Dissolution  of  Nature,  in  which  light  doubtless  it  partly 
appeared  to  himself,  his  own  nature  is  nowise  dissolved  there- 
by; but  rather  is  compressed  closer.  For  once,  as  we  might 
say,  a Blumine  by  magic  appliances  has  unlocked  that  shut 
heart  of  his,  and  its.  hidden  things  rush  out  tumultuous,  bound- 
less, like  genii  enfranchised  from  their  glass  vial:  but  no 
sooner  are  your  magic  appliances  withdrawn,  than  the  strange 
casket  of  a heart  springs  to  again ; and  perhaps  there  is  now 
no  key  extant  that  will  open  it ; for  a Teufelsdrockh,  as  we 
remarked,  will  not  love  a second  time.  Singular  Diogenes ! 
No  sooner  has  that  heart-rending  occurrence  fairly  taken  place, 
than  he  affects  to  regard  it  as  a thing  natural,  of  which  there 
is  nothing  more  to  be  said.  “One  highest  hope,  seemingly 
legible  in  the  eyes  of  an  Angel,  had  recalled  him  as  out  of 
Death-shadows  into  celestial  Life  : but  a gleam  of  Tophet 
passed  over  the  face  of  his  Angel ; he  was  rapt  away  in  whirl- 
winds, and  heard  the  laughter  of  Demons.  It  was  a Calen- 
ture,” adds  he,  “whereby  the  Youth  saw  green  Paradise-groves 
in  the  waste  Ocean-waters  : a lying  vision,  yet  not  wholly  a lie, 
for  he  saw  it.”  But  what  things  soever  passed  in  him,  when 
he  ceased  to  see  it ; what  ragings  and  despairings  soever  Teu- 
felsdrockh’s  soul  was  the  scene  of,  he  has  the  goodness  to 
conceal  under  a quite  opaque  cover  of  Silence.  We  know  it 
well ; the  first  mad  paroxysm  past,  our  brave  Gneschen  collected 
his  dismembered  philosophies,  and  buttoned  himself  together  ; 
he  was  meek,  silent,  or  spoke  of  the  weather  and  the  Journals : 
only  by  a transient  knitting  of  those  shaggy  brows,  by  some 


Chap.  VI. 


SORROWS  OF  TEUFELSDROCKH. 


115 


deep  flash  of  those  eyes,  glancing  one  knew  not  whether  with 
tear-dew  or  with  fierce  fire,  — might  yon  have  guessed  what  a 
Gehenna  was  within : that  a whole  Satanic  School  were  spout- 
ing, though  inaudibly,  there.  To  consume  your  own  choler, 
as  some  chimneys  consume  their  own  smoke ; to  keep  a whole 
Satanic  School  spouting,  if  it  must  spout,  inaudibly,  is  a nega- 
tive yet  no  slight  virtue,  nor  one  of  the  commonest  in  these 
times. 

Nevertheless,  we  will  not  take  upon  us  to  say,  that  in  the 
strange  measure  he  fell  upon,  there  was  not  a touch  of  latent 
Insanity ; whereof  indeed  the  actual  condition  of  these  Docu- 
ments in  Capricornus  and  Aquarius  is  no  bad  emblem.  His  so 
unlimited  Wanderings,  toilsome  enough,  are  without  assigned 
or  perhaps  assignable  aim;  internal  Unrest  seems  his  sole 
guidance  ; he  wanders,  wanders,  as  if  that  curse  of  the  Prophet 
had  fallen  on  him,  and  he  were  “made  like  unto  a wheel.” 
Doubtless,  too,  the  chaotic  nature  of  these  Paper-bags  aggra- 
vates our  obscurity.  Quite  without  note  of  preparation,  for 
example,  we  come  upon  the  following  slip : “ A peculiar  feel- 
ing it  is  that  will  rise  in  the  Traveller,  when  turning  some 
hill-range  in  his  desert  road,  he  descries  lying  far  below,  em- 
bosomed among  its  groves  and  green  natural  bulwarks,  and  all 
diminished  to  a toy-box,  the  fair  Town,  where  so  many  souls, 
as  it  were  seen  and  yet  unseen,  are  driving  their  multifarious 
traffic.  Its  white  steeple  is  then  truly  a starward-pointing 
finger;  the  canopy  of  blue  smoke  seems  like  a sort  of  Life- 
breath  : for  always,  of  its  own  unity,  the  soul  gives  unity  to 
whatsoever  it  looks  on  with  love  ; thus  does  the  little  Dwelling- 
place  of  men,  in  itself  a congeries  of  houses  and  huts,  become 
for  us  an  individual*  almost  a person.  But  what  thousand 
other  thoughts  unite  thereto,  if  the  place  has  to  ourselves  been 
the  arena  of  joyous  or  mournful  experiences ; if  perhaps  the 
cradle  we  were  rocked  in  still  stands  there,  if  our  Loving  ones 
still  dwell  there,  if  our  Buried  ones  there  slumber  ! ” Does 
Teufelsdrockh,  as  the  wounded  eagle  is  said  to  make  for  its 
own  eyrie,  and  indeed  military  deserters,  and  all  hunted  out- 
cast creatures,  turn  as  if  by  instinct  in  the  direction  of  their 
birthland,  — fly  first,  in  this  extremity,  towards  his  native 


116 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


Entepfuhl ; but  reflecting  that  there  no  help  awaits  him,  take 
only  one  wistful  look  from  the  distance,  and  then  wend  else- 
whither ? 

Little  happier  seems  to  be  his  next  flight:  into  the  wilds 
of  Nature ; as  if  in  her  mother-bosom  he  would  seek  healing. 
So  at  least  we  incline  to  interpret  the  following  Notice,  sepa- 
rated from  the  former  by  some  considerable  space,  wherein, 
however,  is  nothing  noteworthy  : — 

“ Mountains  were  not  new  to  him ; but  rarely  are  Mountains 
seen  in  such  combined  majesty  and  grace  as  here.  The  rocks 
are  of  that  sort  called  Primitive  by  the  mineralogists,  which 
always  arrange  themselves  in  masses  of  a rugged,  gigantic 
character ; which  ruggedness,  however,  is  here  tempered  by  a 
singular  airiness  of  form,  and  softness  of  environment:  in 
a climate  favorable  to  vegetation,  the  gray  cliff,  itself  covered 
with  lichens,  shoots  up  through  a garment  of  foliage  or  ver- 
dure; and  white,  bright  cottages,  tree-shaded,  cluster  round 
the  everlasting  granite.  In  fine  vicissitude,  Beauty  alternates 
with  Grandeur : you  ride  through  stony  hollows,  along  strait 
passes,  traversed  by  torrents,  overhung  by  high  walls  of  rock ; 
now  winding  amid  broken  shaggy  chasms,  and  huge  frag- 
ments ; now  suddenly  emerging  into  some  emerald  valley, 
where  the  streamlet  collects  itself  into  a Lake,  and  man  has 
again  found  a fair  dwelling,  and  it  seems  as  if  Peace  had 
established  herself  in  the  bosom  of  Strength. 

“To  Peace,  however,  in  this  vortex  of  existence,  can  the 
Son  of  Time  not  pretend : still  less  if  some  Spectre  haunt  him 
from  the  Past;  and  the  Future  is  wholly  a Stygian  Darkness, 
spectre-bearing.  Reasonably  might  the  Wanderer  exclaim  to 
himself : Are  not  the  gates  of  this  world’s  Happiness  inexora- 
bly shut  against  thee ; hast  thou  a hope  that  is  not  mad  ? 
Nevertheless,  one  may  still  murmur  audibly,  or  in  the  original 
Greek  if  that  suit  thee  better : ‘ Whoso  can  look  on  Death  will 
start  at  no  shadows.’ 

“From  such  meditations  is  the  Wanderer’s  attention  called 
outwards ; for  now  the  Valley  closes  in  abruptly,  intersected 
by  a huge  mountain  mass,  the  stony  water-worn  ascent  of 
which  is  not  to  be  accomplished  on  horseback.  Arrived  aloft, 


Chap.  VI. 


SORROWS  OF  TEUFELSDROCKH. 


117 


he  finds  himself  again  lifted  into  the  evening  sunset  light ; 
and  cannot  but  pause,  and  gaze  round  him,  some  moments 
there.  An  upland  irregular  expanse  of  wold,  where  valleys 
in  complex  branchings  are  suddenly  or  slowly  arranging  their 
descent  towards  every  quarter  of  the  sky.  The  mountain- 
ranges  are  beneath  your  feet,  and  folded  together : only  the 
loftier  summits  look  down  here  and  there  as  on  a second 
plain ; lakes  also  lie  clear  and  earnest  in  their  solitude.  No 
trace  of  jnan  now  visible ; unless  indeed  it  were  he  who  fash- 
ioned that  little  visible  link  of  Highway,  here,  as  would  seem, 
scaling  the  inaccessible,  to  unite  Province  with  Province. 
But  sunwards,  lo  you ! how  it  towers  sheer  up,  a world  of 
Mountains,  the  diadem  and  centre  of  the  mountain  region  ! A 
hundred  and  a hundred  savage  peaks,  in  the  last  light  of  Day ; 
all  glowing,  of  gold  and  amethyst,  like  giant  spirits  of  the 
wilderness ; there  in  their  silence,  in  their  solitude,  even  as 
on  the  night  when  Noah’s  Deluge  first  dried!  Beautiful,  nay 
solemn,  was  the  sudden  aspect  to  our  Wanderer.  He  gazed 
over  those  stupendous  masses  with  wonder,  almost  with  long- 
ing desire;  never  till  this  hour  had  he  known  Nature,  that 
she  was  One,  that  she  was  his  Mother  and  divine.  And  as 
the  ruddy  glow  was  fading  into  clearness  in  the  sky,  and  the 
Sun  had  now  departed,  a murmur  of  Eternity  ahd  Immensity, 
of  Death  and  of  Life,  stole  through  his  soul ; and  he  felt  as  if 
Death  and  Life  were  one,  as  if  the  Earth  were  not  dead,  as 
if  the  Spirit  of  the  Earth  had  its  throne  in  that  splendor,  and 
his  own  spirit  were  therewith  holding  communion. 

“The  spell  was  broken  by  a sound  of  carriage-wheels. 
Emerging  from  the  hidden  Northward,  to  sink  soon  into  the 
hidden  Southward,  came  a gay  Barouche-and-four : it  was 
open ; servants  and  postilions  wore  wedding  favors : that 
happy  pair,  then,  had  found  each  other,  it  was  their  marriage 
evening ! Few  moments  brought  them  near : Du  Himmel  / 
It  was  Herr  Towgood  and  — Blumine  ! With  slight  unrecog- 
nizing salutation  they  passed  me ; plunged  down  amid  the 
neighboring  thickets,  onwards,  to  Heaven,  and  to  England; 
and  I,  in  my  friend  Richter’s  words,  I remained  alone , behind 
them , with  the  Night.” 


118 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


Were  it  not  cruel  in  these  circumstances,  here  might  be  the 
place  to  insert  an  observation,  gleaned  long  ago  from  the 
great  Clothes-  Volume , where  it  stands  with  quite  other  intent : 
“ Some  time  before  Small-pox  was  extirpated,”  says  the  Pro- 
fessor, “there  came  a new  malady  of  the  spiritual  sort  on 
Europe : I mean  the  epidemic,  now  endemical,  of  View-hunt- 
ing. Poets  of  old  date,  being  privileged  with  Senses,  had  also 
enjoyed  external  Nature ; but  chiefly  as  we  enjoy  the  crystal 
cup  which  holds  good  or  bad  liquor  for  us ; that  is  to  say,  in 
silence,  or  with  slight  incidental  commentary : never,  as  I com- 
pute, till  after  the  Sorrows  of  Werter,  was  there  man  found 
who  would  say : Come  let  us  make  a Description ! Having 
drunk  the  liquor,  come  let  us  eat  the  glass ! Of  which  en- 
demic the  Jenner  is  unhappily  still  to  seek.”  Too  true ! 

We  reckon  it  more  important  to  remark  that  the  Professor’s 
Wanderings,  so  far  as  his  stoical  and  cynical  envelopment 
admits  us  to  clear  insight,  here  first  take  their  permanent  char- 
acter, fatuous  or  not.  That  Basilisk-glance  of  the  Barouche- 
and-four  seems  to  have  withered  up  what  little  remnant  of  a 
purpose  may  have  still  lurked  in  him : Life  has  become  wholly 
a dark  labyrinth;  wherein,  through  long  years,  our  Friend, 
flying  from  spectres,  has  to  stumble  about  at  random,  and 
naturally  with  more  haste  than  progress. 

Foolish  were  it  in  us  to  attempt  following  him,  even  from 
afar,  in  this  extraordinary  world-pilgrimage  of  his ; the  sim- 
plest record  of  which,  were  clear  record  possible,  would  fill 
volumes.  Hopeless  is  the  obscurity,  unspeakable  the  confu- 
sion. He  glides  from  country  to  country,  from  condition  to  con- 
dition ; vanishing  and  reappearing,  no  man  can  calculate  how 
or  where.  Through  all  quarters  of  the  world  he  wanders,  and 
apparently  through  all  circles  of  society.  If  in  any  scene, 
perhaps  difficult  to  fix  geographically,  he  settles  for  a time, 
and  forms  connections,  be  sure  he  will  snap  them  abruptly 
asunder.  Let  him  sink  out  of  sight  as  Private  Scholar  (Pri- 
vatisirender),  living  by  the  grace  of  God  in  some  European 
capital,  you  may  next  find  him  as  Hadjee  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Mecca.  It  is  an  inexplicable  Phantasmagoria,  capricious, 
quick-changing ; as  if  our  Traveller,  instead  of  limbs  and  high- 


Chap.  VI.  SORROWS  OF  TEUFELSDROCKH.  119 

ways,  had  transported  himself  by  some  wishing-carpet,  or  For- 
tunatus’  Hat.  The  whole,  too,  imparted  emblematically,  in 
dim  multifarious  tokens  (as  that  collection  of  Street-Advertise- 
ments) ; with  only  some  touch  of  direct  historical  notice  spar- 
ingly interspersed : little  light-islets  in  the  world  of  haze  ! So 
that,  from  this  point,  the  Professor  is  more  of  an  enigma  than 
ever.  In  figurative  language,  we  might  say  he  becomes,  not 
indeed  a spirit,  yet  spiritualized,  vaporized.  Fact  unparalleled 
in  Biography  : The  river  of  his  History,  which  we  have  traced 
from  its  tiniest  fountains,  and  hoped  to  see  flow  onward,  with 
increasing  current,  into  the  ocean,  here  dashes  itself  over  that 
terrific  Lover’s  Leap;  and,  as  a mad-foaming  cataract,  flies 
wholly  into  tumultuous  clouds  of  spray ! Low  down  it  indeed 
collects  again  into  pools  and  plashes ; yet  only  at  a great  dis- 
tance, and  with  difficulty,  if  at  all,  into  a general  stream.  To 
cast  a glance  into  certain  of  those  pools  and  plashes,  and  trace 
whither  they  run,  must,  for  a chapter  or  two,  form  the  limit  of 
our  endeavor. 

For  which  end  doubtless  those  direct  historical  Notices, 
where  they  can  be  met  with,  are  the  best.  Nevertheless,  of 
this  sort  too  there  occurs  much,  which,  with  our  present  light, 
it  were  questionable  to  emit.  Teufelsdrockh,  vibrating  every- 
where between  the  highest  and  the  lowest  levels,  comes  into 
contact  with  public  History  itself.  For  example,  those  conver- 
sations and  relations  with  illustrious  Persons,  as  Sultan  Mah- 
moud, the  Emperor  Napoleon,  and  others,  are  they  not  as  yet 
rather  of  a diplomatic  character  than  of  a biographic  ? The 
Editor,  appreciating  the  sacredness  of  crowned  heads,  nay  per- 
haps suspecting  the  possible  trickeries  of  a Clothe s-Philosopher, 
will  eschew  this  province  for  the  present ; a new  time  may 
bring  new  insight  and  a different  duty. 

If  we  ask  now,  not  indeed  with  what  ulterior  Purpose,  for 
there  was  none,  yet  with  what  immediate  outlooks  ; at  all 
events,  in  what  mood  of  mind,  the  Professor  undertook  and 
prosecuted  this  world-pilgrimage,  — the  answer  is  more  distinct 
than  favorable.  “A  nameless  Unrest,”  says  he,  “ urged  me 
forward ; to  which  the  outward  motion  was  some  momentary 
lying  solace.  Whither  should  I go  ? My  Loadstars  were 


120 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


blotted  out : in  that  canopy  of  grim  lire  shone  no  star.  Yet 
forward  must  I ; the  ground  burnt  under  me ; there  was  no 
rest  for  the  sole  of  my  foot.  I was  alone,  alone  ! Ever  too 
the  strong  inward  longing  shaped  Phantasms  for  itself : to- 
wards these,  one  after  the  other,  must  I fruitlessly  wander.  A 
feeling  I had,  that  for  my  fever-thirst  there  was  and  must  be 
somewhere  a healing  Fountain.  To  many  fondly  imagined 
Fountains,  the  Saints’  Wells  of  these  days,  did  I pilgrim;  to 
great  Men,  to  great  Cities,  to  great  Events  : but  found  there 
no  healing.  In  strange  countries,  as  in  the  well-known ; in 
savage  deserts,  as  in  the  press  of  corrupt  civilization,  it  was 
ever  the  same  : how  could  your  Wanderer  escape  from  — his 
own  Shadow  ? Nevertheless  still  Forward ! I felt  as  if  in 
great  haste ; to  do  I saw  not  what.  From  the  depths  of  my 
own  heart,  it  called  to  me,  Forwards  ! The  winds  and  the 
streams,  and  all  Nature  sounded  to  me,  Forwards  ! Ach  Gott, 
I was  even,  once  for  all,  a Son  of  Time.” 

From  which  is  it  not  clear  that  the  internal  Satanic  School 
was  still  active  enough  ? He  says  elsewhere  : “ The  Enchi- 
ridion of  Epictetus  I had  ever  with  me,  often  as  my  sole 
rational  companion ; and  regret  to  mention  that  the  nourish- 
ment it  yielded  was  trifling.”  Thou  foolish  Teufelsdrockh  ! 
How  could  it  else  ? Hadst  thou  not  Greek  enough  to  under- 
stand thus  much:  The  end  of  Man  is  an  Action , and  not  a 
Thought , though  it  were  the  noblest  ? 

“ How  I lived  ? ” writes  he  once  : “ Friend,  hast  thou  con- 
sidered the  ‘rugged  all-nourishing  Earth,’  as  Sophocles  well 
names  her ; how  she  feeds  the  sparrow  on  the  house-top,  much 
more  her  darling,  man  ? While  thou  stirrest  and  livest,  thou 
hast  a probability  of  victual.  My  breakfast  of  tea  has  been 
cooked  by  a Tartar  woman,  with  water  of  the  Amur,  who  wiped 
her  earthen  kettle  'with  a horse-tail.  I have  roasted  wild  eggs 
in  the  sand  of  Sahara ; • I have  awakened  in  Paris  Estrapudes 
and  Vienna  Malzleins,  with  no  prospect  of  breakfast  beyond 
elemental  liquid.  That  I had  my  Living  to  seek  saved  me 
from  Hying,  — by  suicide.  In  our  busy  Europe,  is  there  not 
an  everlasting  demand  for  Intellect,  in  the  chemical,  mechani- 
cal, political,  religious,  educational,  commercial  departments  ? 


Chap.  VI. 


SORROWS  OF  TEUFELSDROCKH. 


121 


In  Pagan  countries,  'cannot  one  write  Fetishes  ? Living ! 
Little  knowest  thou  what  alchemy  is  in  an  inventive  Soul ; 
how,  as  with  its  little  finger,  it  can  create  provision  enough  for 
the  body  (of  a Philosopher) ; and  then,  as  with  both  hands, 
create  quite  other  than  provision ; namely,  spectres  to  torment 
itself  withal.” 

Poor  Teufelsdrockh ! Flying  with  Hunger  always  parallel 
to  him;  and  a whole  Infernal  Chase  in  his  rear;  so  that 
the  countenance  of  Hunger  is  comparatively  a friend’s  ! Thus 
must  he,  in  the  temper  of  ancient  Cain,  or  of  the  modern 
Wandering  Jew,  — save  only  that  he  feels  himself  not  guilty 
and  but  suffering  the  pains  of  guilt,  — wend  to  and  fro  with 
aimless  speed.  Thus  must  he,  over  the  whole  surface  of  the 
Earth  (by  footprints),  write  his  Sorrows  of  Teufelsdrockh ; 
even  as  the  great  Goethe,  in  passionate  words,  had  to  write  his 
Sorrows  of  Werter,  before  the  spirit  freed  herself,  and  he  could 
become  a Man.  Vain  truly  is  the  hope  of  your  swiftest  Runner 
to  escape  “from  his  own  Shadow”!  Nevertheless,  in  these 
sick  days,  when  the  Born  of  Heaven  first  descries  himself 
(about  the  age  of  twenty)  in  a world  such  as  ours,  richer  than 
usual  in  two  things,  in  Truths  grown  obsolete,  and  Trades 
grown  obsolete, — what  can  the  fool  think  but  that  it  is  all  a 
Den  of  Lies,  wherein  whoso  will  not  speak  Lies  and  act  Lies, 
must  stand  idle  and  despair  ? Whereby  it  happens  that,  for 
your  nobler  minds,  the  publishing  of  some  such  Work  of  Art, 
in  one  or  the  other  dialect,  becomes  almost  a necessity.  For 
what  is  it  properly  but  an  Altercation  with  the  Devil,  before 
you  begin  honestly  Fighting  him  ? Your  Byron  publishes  his 
Sorrows  of  Lord  George,  in  verse  and  in  prose,  and  copiously 
otherwise  : your  Bonaparte  represents  his  Sorrows  of  Napoleon 
Opera,  in  an  all-too  stupendous  style ; with  music  of  cannon- 
volleys;  and  murder-shrieks  of  a world ; his  stage-lights  are  the 
fires  of  Conflagration ; his  rhyme  and  recitative  are  the  tramp 
of  embattled  Hosts  and  the  sound  of  falling  Cities.  — Happier 
is  he  who,  like  our  Clothes-Philosopher,  can  write  such  mat- 
ter, since  it  must  be  written,  on  the  insensible  Earth,  with  his 
shoe-soles  only ; and  also  survive  the  writing  thereof ! 


122 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  EVERLASTING  NO. 

Under  the  strange  nebulous  envelopment,  wherein  onr  Pro- 
fessor has  now  shrouded  himself,  no  doubt  but  his  spiritual 
nature  is  nevertheless  progressive,  and  growing : for  how  can 
the  “Son  of  Time,”  in  any  case,  stand  still?  We  behold 
him,  through  those  dim  years,  in  a state  of  crisis,  of  transition  : 
his  mad  Pilgrimings,  and  general  solution  into  aimless  Dis- 
continuity, what  is  all  this  but  a mad  Fermentation ; where- 
from the  fiercer  it  is,  the  clearer  product  will  one  day  evolve 
itself  ? 

Such  transitions  are  ever  full  of  pain : thus  the  Eagle  when 
he  moults  is  sickly ; and,  to  attain  his  new  beak,  must  harshly 
dash  off  the  old  one  upon  rocks.  What  Stoicism  soever  our 
Wanderer,  in  his  individual  acts  and  motions,  may  affect,  it  is 
clear  that  there  is  a hot  fever  of  anarchy  and  misery  raging 
within ; coruscations  of  which  flash  out : as,  indeed,  how  could 
there  be  other  ? Have  we  not  seen  him  disappointed,  bemocked 
of  Destiny,  through  long  years?  All  that  the  young  heart 
might  desire  and  pray  for  has  been  denied;  nay,  as  in  the 
last  worst  instance,  offered  and  then  snatched  away.  Ever 
an  “ excellent  Passivity ; ” but  of  useful,  reasonable  Activity, 
essential  to  the  former  as  Food  to  Hunger,  nothing  granted : 
till  at  length,  in  this  wild  Pilgrimage,  he  must  forcibly  seize 
for  himself  an  Activity,  though  useless,  unreasonable.  Alas, 
his  cup  of  bitterness,  which  had  been  filling  drop  by  drop,  ever 
since  that  first  “ ruddy  morning  ” in  the  Hinterschlag  Gym- 
nasium, was  at  the  very  lip ; and  then  with  that  poison-drop, 
of  the  Towgood-and-Blumine  business,  it  runs  over,  and  even 
hisses  over  in  a deluge  of  foam. 

He  himself  says  once,  with  more  justness  than  originality : 
“ Man  is,  properly  speaking,  based  upon  Hope,  he  has  no  other 


Chap.  VII. 


THE  EVERLASTING  NO. 


123 


possession  but  Hope;  this  world  of  his  is  emphatically  the 
Place  of  Hope.”  What,  then,  was  our  Professor’s  possession  ? 
We  see  him,  for  the  present,  quite  shut  out  from  Hope ; look- 
ing not  into  the  golden  orient,  but  vaguely  all  round  into  a dim 
copper  firmament,  pregnant  with  earthquake  and  tornado. 

Alas,  shut  out  from  Hope,  in  a deeper  sense  than  we  yet 
dream  of ! For,  as  he  wanders  wearisomely  through  this 
world,  he  has  now  lost  all  tidings  of  another  and  higher.  Full 
of  religion,  or  at  least  of  religiosity,  as  our  Friend  has  since 
exhibited  himself,  he  hides  not  that,  in  those  days,  he  was 
wholly  irreligious  : “ Doubt  had  darkened  into  Unbelief,”  says 
he ; “ shade  after  shade  goes  grimly  over  your  soul,  till  you 
have  the  fixed,  starless,  Tartarean  black.”  To  such  readers  as 
have  reflected,  what  can  be  called  reflecting,  on  man’s  life,  and 
happily  discovered,  in  contradiction  to  much  Profit-and-Loss 
Philosophy,  speculative  and  practical,  that  Soul  is  not  synony- 
mous with  Stomach ; who  understand,  therefore,  in  our  Friend’s 
words,  “that,  for  man’s  well-being,  Faith  is  properly  the  one 
thing  needful;  how,  with  it,  Martyrs,  otherwise  weak,  can 
cheerfully  endure  the  shame  and  the  cross ; and  without  it, 
Worldlings  puke  up  their  sick  existence,  by  suicide,  in  the 
midst  of  luxury  : ” to  such  it  will  be  clear  that,  for  a pure  moral 
nature,  the  loss  of  his  religious  Belief  was  the  loss  of  every- 
thing. Unhappy  young  man ! All  wounds,  the  crush  of  long- 
continued  Destitution,  the  stab  of  false  Friendship  and  of  false 
Love,  all  wounds  in  thy  so  genial  heart,  would  have  healed 
again,  had  not  its  life-warmth  been  withdrawn.  Well  might 
he  exclaim,  in  his  wild  way : “ Is  there  no  God,  then ; but  at 
best  an  absentee  God,  sitting  idle,  ever  since  the  first  Sabbath, 
at  the  outside  of  his  Universe,  and  seeing  it  go  ? Has  the 
word  Duty  no  meaning ; is  what  we  call  Duty  no  divine  Mes- 
senger and  Guide,  but  a false  earthly  Phantasm,  made  up  of 
Desire  and  Fear,  of  emanations  from  the  Gallows  and  from 
Doctor  Graham’s  Celestial-Bed  ? Happiness  of  an  approving 
Conscience ! Did  not  Paul  of  Tarsus,  whom  admiring  men 
have  since  named  Saint,  feel  that  he  was  ‘.the  chief  of  sin- 
ners;’ and  Nero  of  Rome,  jocund  in  spirit  ( Wohlgemuth ), 
spend  much  of  his  time  in  fiddling?  Foolish  Wordmonger 


124 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


and  Motive-grinder,  who  in  thy  Logic-mill  hast  an  earthly 
mechanism  for  the  Godlike  itself,  and  wouldst  fain  grind  me 
out  Virtue  from  the  husks  of  Pleasure,  — -I  tell  thee,  Nay  ! To 
the  unregenerate  Prometheus  Vinctus  of  a man,  it  is  ever  the 
bitterest  aggravation  of  his  wretchedness  that  he  is  conscious 
of  Virtue,  that  he  feels  himself  the  victim  not  of  suffering  only, 
but  of  injustice.  What  then  ? Is  the  heroic  inspiration  we 
name  Virtue  but  some  Passion;  some  bubble  of  the  blood, 
bubbling  in  the  direction  others  profit  by  ? I know  not : only 
this  I know,  If  what  thou  namest  Happiness  be  our  true  aim, 
then  are  we  all  astray.  With  Stupidity  and  sound  Digestion 
man  may  front  much.  But  what,  in  these  dull  unimaginative 
days,  are  the  terrors  of  Conscience  to  the  diseases  of  the  Liver  ! 
Not  on  Morality,  but  on  Cookery,  let  us  build  our  stronghold : 
there  brandishing  our  frying-pan,  as  censer,  let  us  offer  sweet 
incense  to  the  Devil,  and  live  at  ease  on  the  fat  things  he  has 
provided  for  his  Elect ! ” 

Thus  has  the  bewildered  Wanderer  to  stand,  as  so  many 
have  done,  shouting  question  after  question  into  the  Sibyl-cave 
of  Destiny,  and  receive  no  Answer  but  an  Echo.  It  is  all  a 
grim  Desert,  this  once-fair  world  of  his  ; wherein  is  heard  only 
the  howling  of  wild  beasts,  or  the  shrieks  of  despairing,  hate- 
filled  men ; and  no  Pillar  of  Cloud  by  day,  and  no  Pillar  of  Fire 
by  night,  any  longer  guides  the  Pilgrim.  To  such  length  has 
the  spirit  of  Inquiry  carried  him.  “ But  what  boots  it  ( was 
t hut’s)  ? ” cries  he  : “ it  is  but  the  common  lot  in  this  era.  Not 
having  come  to  spiritual  majority  prior  to  the  Siecle  de  Louis 
Quinze,  and  not  being  born  purely  a Loghead  ( Dummkopf ), 
thou  hadst  no  other  outlook.  The  whole  world  is,  like  thee, 
sold  to  Unbelief ; their  old  Temples  of  the  Godhead,  which  for 
long  have  not  been  rain-proof,  crumble  down;  and  men  ask 
now  : Where  is  the  Godhead ; our  eyes  never  saw  him  ? ” 

Pitiful  enough  were  it,  for  all  these  wild  utterances,  to  call 
our  Diogenes  wicked.  Unprofitable  servants  as  we  all  are,  per- 
haps at  no  era  of  his  life  was  he  more  decisively  the  Servant  of 
Goodness,  the  Servant  of  God,  than  even  now  when  doubting 
God’s  existence.  “ One  circumstance  I note,”  says  he  : “ after 
all  the  nameless  woe  that  Inquiry,  which  for  me,  what  it  is  not 


Chap.  VII. 


THE  EVERLASTING  NO. 


125 


always,  was  genuine  Love  of  Truth,  had  wrought  me,  I never- 
theless still  loved  Truth,  and  would  bate  no  jot  of  my  allegiance 
to  her.  ( Truth  ! ’ I cried,  1 though  the  Heavens  crush  me  for  fol- 
lowing her : no  Falsehood  ! though  a whole  celestial  Lubberland 
were  the  price  of  Apostasy.  ’ In  conduct  it  was  the  same.  Had 
a divine  Messenger  from  the  clouds,  or  miraculous  Handwrit- 
ing on  the  wall,  convincingly  proclaimed  to  me  This  thou  shalt 
do , with  what  passionate  readiness,  as  I often  thought,  would  I 
have  done  it,  had  it  been  leaping  into  the  infernal  Fire.  Thus, 
in  spite  of  all  Motive-grinders,  and  Mechanical  Protit-and-Loss 
Philosophies,  with  the  sick  ophthalmia  and  hallucination  they 
had  brought  on,  was  the  Infinite  nature  of  Duty  still  dimly 
present  to  me  : living  without  God  in  the  world,  of  God’s  light 
I was  not  utterly  bereft ; if  my  as  yet  sealed  eyes,  with  their 
unspeakable  longing,  could  nowhere  see  Him,  nevertheless  in 
my  heart  He  was  present,  and  His  heayen-written  Law  still 
stood  legible  and  sacred  there.” 

Meanwhile,  under  all  these  tribulations,  and  temporal  and 
spiritual  destitutions,  what  must  the  Wanderer,  in  his  silent 
soul,  have  endured  ! u The  painfullest  feeling,”  writes  he,  “ is 
that  of  your  own  Feebleness  ( Unkraft)  ; ever,  as  the  English 
Milton  says,  to  be  weak  is  the  true  misery.  And  yet  of  your 
Strength  there  is  and  can  be  no  clear  feeling,  save  by  what 
you  have  prospered  in,  by  what  you  have  done.  Between 
vague  wavering  Capability  and  fixed  indubitable  Performance, 
what  a difference  ! A certain  inarticulate  Self-consciousness 
dwells  dimly  in  us ; which  only  our  Works  can  render  articu- 
late and  decisively  discernible.  Our  Works  are  the  mirror 
wherein  the  spirit  first  sees  its  natural  lineaments.  Hence, 
too,  the  folly  of  that  impossible  Precept,  Know  thyself ; till 
it  be  translated  into  this  partially  possible  one,  Know  what 
thou  canst  work  at. 

“ But  for  me,  so  strangely  unprosperous  had  I been,  the  net- 
result  of  my  Workings  amounted  as  yet  simply  to  — Nothing. 
How  then  could  I believe  in  my  Strength,  when  there  was  as 
yet  no  mirror  to  see  it  in  ? Ever  did  this  agitating,  yet,  as 
I now  perceive,- quite  frivolous  question,  remain  to  me  insolu- 
ble : Hast  thou  a certain  Faculty,  a certain  Worth,  such  even 


126 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


as  the  most  have  not ; or  art  thou  the  completest  Dullard  of 
these  modern  times  ? Alas,  the  fearful  Unbelief  is  unbelief 
in  yourself  ; and  how  could  I believe  ? Had  not  my  first,  last 
Faith  in  myself,  when  even  to  me  the  Heavens  seemed  laid 
open,  and  I dared  to  love,  been  all  too  cruelly  belied  ? The 
speculative  Mystery  of  Life  grew  ever  more  mysterious  to 
me : neither  in  the  practical  Mystery  had  I made  the  slightest 
progress,  but  been  everywhere  buffeted,  foiled,  and  contemptu- 
ously cast  out.  A feeble  unit  in  the  middle  of  a threatening 
Infinitude,  I seemed  to  have  nothing  given  me  but  eyes, 
whereby  to  discern  my  own  wretchedness.  Invisible  yet 
impenetrable  walls,  as  of  Enchantment,  divided  me  from  all 
living : was  there,  in  the  wide  world,  any  true  bosom  I could 
press  trustfully  to  mine  ? 0 Heaven,  Ho,  there  was  none ! I 

kept  a lock  upon  my  lips  : why  should  I speak  much  with 
that  shifting  variety  of  so-called  Friends,  in  whose  withered, 
vain  and  too-hungry  souls  Friendship  was  but  an  incredible 
tradition  ? In  such  cases,  your  resource  is  to  talk  little,  and 
that  little  mostly  from  the  Newspapers.  How  when  I look 
back,  it  was  a strange  isolation  I then  lived  in.  The  men  and 
women  around  me,  even  speaking  with  me,  were  but  Figures  ; 
I had,  practically,  forgotten  that  they  were  alive,  that  they 
were  not  merely  automatic.  In  the  midst  of  their  crowded 
streets  and  assemblages,  I walked  solitary ; and  (except  as  it 
was  my  own  heart,  not  another’s,  that  I kept  devouring)  sav- 
age also,  as  the  tiger  in  his  jungle.  Some  comfort  it  would 
have  been,  could  I,  like  a Faust,  have  fancied  myself  tempted 
and  tormented  of  the  Devil ; for  a Hell,  as  I imagine,  without 
Life,  though  only  diabolic  Life,  were  more  frightful : but  in 
our  age  of  Down-pulling  and  Disbelief,  the  very  Devil  has 
been  pulled  down,  you  cannot  so  much  as  believe  in  a Devil. 
To  me  the  Universe  was  all  void  of  Life,  of  Purpose,  of  Voli- 
tion, even  of  Hostility : it  was  one  huge,  dead,  immeasurable 
Steam-engine,  rolling  on,  in  its  dead  indifference,  to  grind  me 
limb  from  limb.  Oh,  the  vast,  gloomy,  solitary  Golgotha,  and 
Mill  of  Death ! Why  was  the  Living  banished  thither  com- 
panionless, conscious  ? Why,  if  there  is  no  Devil ; nay, 
unless  the  Devil  is  your  God  ? ” 


Chap.  VII. 


THE  EVERLASTING  NO. 


127 


A prey  incessantly  to  such  corrosions,  might  not,  moreover, 
as  the  worst  aggravation  to  them,  the  iron  constitution  even 
of  a Teufelsdrockh  threaten  to  fail  ? We  conjecture  that  he 
has  known  sickness  ; and,  in  spite  of  his  locomotive  habits, 
perhaps  sickness  of  the  chronic  sort.  Hear  this,  for  example : 
“ How  beautiful  to  die  of  broken-heart,  on  Paper  ! Quite  an- 
other thing  in  practice  ; every  window  of  your  Peeling,  even 
of  your  Intellect,  as  it  were,  begrimed  and  mud-bespattered, 
so  that  no  pure  ray  can  enter ; a whole  Drug-shop  in  your 
inwards ; the  fordone  soul  drowning  slowly  in  quagmires  of 
Disgust ! ” 

Putting  all  which  external  and  internal  miseries  together, 
may  we  not  find  in  the  following  sentences,  quite  in  our  Pro- 
fessor’s still  vein,  significance  enough  ? “ Prom  Suicide  a 

certain  after-shine  (Naehschein)  of  Christianity  withheld  me  : 
perhaps  also  a certain  indolence  of  character  ; for,  was  not 
that  a remedy  I had  at  any  time  within  reach  ? Often,  how- 
ever, was  there  a question  present  to  me  : Should  some  one 
now,  at  the  turning  of  that  corner,  blow  thee  suddenly  out 
of  Space,  into  the  other  World,  or  other  No-world,  by  pistol- 
shot,  — how  were  it  ? On  which  ground,  too,  I have  often, 
in  sea-storms  and  sieged  cities  and  other  death-scenes,  exhib- 
ited an  imperturbability,  which  passed,  falsely  enough,  for 
courage.” 

“ So  had  it  lasted,”  concludes  the  Wanderer,  “ so  had  it 
lasted,  as  in  bitter  protracted  Death-agony,  through  long  years. 
The  heart  within  me,  unvisited  by  any  heavenly  dew-drop, 
was  smouldering  in  sulphurous,  slow-consuming  fire.  Almost 
since  earliest  memory  I had  shed  no  tear  ; or  once  only  when 
I,  murmuring  half -audibly,  recited  Paust’s  Death-song,  that 
wild  Selig  der  den  er  im  Siegesglanze  findet  (Happy  whom  he 
finds  in  Battle’s  splendor),  and  thought  that  of  this  last  Priend 
even  I was  not  forsaken,  that  Destiny  itself  could  not  doom 
me  not  to  die.  Having  no  hope,  neither  had  I any  definite  fear, 
were  it  of  Man  or  of  Devil : nay,  I often  felt  as  if  it  might  be 
solacing,  could  the  Arch-Devil  himself,  though  in  Tartarean 
terrors,  but  rise  to  me,  that  I might  tell  him  a little  of  my  mind. 
And  yet,  strangely  enough,  I lived  in  a continual,  indefinite, 


128  SARTOR  RESARTUS.  Book  II. 

pining  fear  ; tremulous,  pusillanimous,  apprehensive  of  I knew 
not  what : it  seemed  as  if  all  things  in  the  Heavens  above  and 
the  Earth  beneath  would  hurt  me  ; as  if  the  Heavens  and  the 
Earth  were  but  boundless  jaws  of  a devouring  monster,  where- 
in I,  palpitating,  waited  to  be  devoured. 

“ Full  of  such  humor,  and  perhaps  the  miserablest  man  in 
the  whole  French  Capital  or  Suburbs,  was  I,  one  sultry  Dog- 
day,  after  much  perambulation,  toiling  along  the  dirty  little 
Rue  Saint- Thomas  de  VEnfer , among  civic  rubbish  enough, 
in  a close  atmosphere,  and  over  pavements  hot  as  Nebuchad- 
nezzar’s Furnace  ; whereby  doubtless  my  spirits  were  little 
cheered ; when,  all  at  once,  there  rose  a Thought  in  me, 
and  I asked  myself : ‘ What  art  thou  afraid  of  ? Where- 
fore, like  a coward,  dost  thou  forever  pip  and  whimper,  and 
go  cowering  and  trembling  ? Despicable  biped  ! what  is  the 
sum-total  of  the  worst  that  lies  before  thee  ? Death  ? Well, 
Death ; and  say  the  pangs  of  Tophet  too,  and  all  that  the 
Devil  and  Man  may,  will  or  can  do  against  thee  ! Hast 
thou  not  a heart ; canst  thou  not  suffer  whatsoever  it  be ; 
and,  as  a Child  of  Freedom,  though  outcast,  trample  Tophet 
itself  under  thy  feet,  while  it  consumes  thee  ? Let  it  come, 
then ; I will  meet  it  and  defy  it ! ’ And  as  I so  thought, 
there  rushed  like  a stream  of  fire  over  my  whole  soul ; and 
I shook  base  Fear  away  from  me  forever.  I was  strong,  of 
unknown  strength ; a spirit,  almost  a god.  Ever  from  that 
time,  the  temper  of  my  misery  was  changed  : not  Fear  or 
whining  Sorrow  was  it,  but  Indignation  and  grim  fire-eyed 
Defiance. 

“Thus  had  the  Everlasting  No  (das  eivige  Nein)  pealed 
authoritatively  through  all  the  recesses  of  my  Being,  of  my 
Me  ; and  then  was  it  that  my  whole  Me  stood  up,  in  native 
God-created  majesty,  and  with  emphasis  recorded  its  Protest. 
Such  a Protest,  the  most  important  transaction  in  Life,  may 
that  same  Indignation  and  Defiance,  in  a psychological  point 
of  view,  be  fitly  called.  The  Everlasting  No  had  said : ‘ Behold, 
thou  art  fatherless,  outcast,  and  the  Universe  is  mine  (the 
Devil’s) ; 9 to  which  my  whole  Me  now  made  answer : 1 1 am 
not  thine,  but  Free,  and  forever  hate  thee  ! 9 


Chap.  VIII. 


CENTRE  OF  INDIFFERENCE. 


129 


“It  is  from  this  hour  that  I incline  to  date  my  Spiritual 
New-birth,  or  Baphometic  Fire-baptism;  perhaps  I directly 
thereupon  began  to  be  a Man.” 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CENTRE  OF  INDIFFERENCE. 

Though,  after  this  “ Baphometic  Fire-baptism  ” of  his,  our 
Wanderer  signifies  that  his  Unrest  was  but  increased;  as, 
indeed,  “ Indignation  and  Defiance,”  especially  against  things 
in  general,  are  not  the  most  peaceable  inmates ; yet  can  the 
Psychologist  surmise  that  it  was  no  longer  a quite  hopeless 
Unrest;  that  henceforth  it  had  at  least  a fixed  centre  to 
revolve  round.  For  the  fire-baptized  soul,  long  so  scathed  and 
thunder-riven,  here  feels  its  own  Freedom,  which  feeling  is  its 
Baphometic  Baptism : the  citadel  of  its  whole  kingdom  it  has 
thus  gained  by  assault,  and  will  keep  inexpugnable ; outwards 
from  which  the  remaining  dominions,  not  indeed  without  hard 
battling,  will  doubtless  by  degrees  be  conquered  and  pacificated. 
Under  another  figure,  we  might  say,  if  in  that  great  moment, 
in  the  Rue  Saint-Thomas  de  VEnfer , the  old  inward  Satanic 
School  was  not  yet  thrown  out  of  doors,  it  received  peremp- 
tory judicial  notice  to  quit ; — whereby,  for  the  rest,  its  howl- 
chantings,  Ernulphus-cursings,  and  rebellious  gnashings  of 
teeth,  might,  in  the  mean  while,  become  only  the  more  tumul- 
tuous, and  difficult  to  keep  secret. 

Accordingly,  if  we  scrutinize  these  Pilgrimings  well,  there  is 
perhaps  discernible  henceforth  a certain  incipient  method  in 
their  madness.  Not  wholly  as  a Spectre  does  Teufelsdrockh 
now  storm  through  the  world ; at  worst  as  a spectre-fighting 
Man,  nay  who  will  one  day  be  a Spectre-queller.  If  pilgriming 
restlessly  to  so  many  “ Saints’  Wells,”  and  ever  wfithout  quench- 
ing of  his  thirst,  he  nevertheless  finds  little  secular  wells, 

VOL.  i.  9 


130 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


whereby  from  time  to  time  some  alleviation  is  ministered.  In 
a word,  he  is  now,  if  not  ceasing,  yet  intermitting  to  “ eat  his 
own  heart ; ” and  clutches  round  him  outwardly  on  the  Not-me 
for  wholesomer  food.  Does  not  the  following  glimpse  exhibit 
him  in  a much  more  natural  state  ? 

“ Towns  also  and  Cities,  especially  the  ancient,  I failed  not 
to  look  upon  with  interest.  How  beautiful  to  see  thereby,  as 
through  a long  vista,  into  the  remote  Time; ; to  have,  as  it  were, 
an  actual  section  of  almost  the  earliest  Past  brought  safe  into 
the  Present,  and  set  before  your  eyes  ! There,  in  that  old  City, 
was  a live  ember  of  Culinary  Fire  put  down,  say  only  two 
thousand  years  ago  ; and  there,  burning  more  or  less  trium- 
phantly, with  such  fuel  as  the  region  yielded,  it  has  burnt, 
and  still  burns,  and  thou  thyself  seest  the  very  smoke  thereof. 
Ah ! and  the  far  more  mysterious  live  ember  of  Vital  Fire  was 
then  also  put  down  there  ; and  still  miraculously  burns  and 
spreads ; and  the  smoke  and  ashes  thereof  (in  these  Judgment- 
Halls  and  Churchyards),  and  its  bellows-engines  (in  these 
Churches),  thou  still  seest ; and  its  flame,  looking  out  from 
every  kind  countenance,  and  every  hateful  one,  still  'warms  thee 
or  scorches  thee. 

“ Of  Man’s  Activity  and  Attainment  the  chief  results  are 
aeriform,  mystic,  and  preserved  in  Tradition  only  : such  are  his 
Forms  of  Government,  with  the  Authority  they  rest  on ; his 
Customs,  or  Fashions  both  of  Cloth-habits  and  of  Soul-habits ; 
much  more  his  collective  stock  of  Handicrafts,  the  whole 
Faculty  he  has  acquired  of  manipulating  Nature  : all  these 
things,  as  indispensable  and  priceless  as  they  are,  cannot  in  any 
way  be  fixed  under  lock  and  key,  but  must  flit,  spirit-like,  on 
impalpable  vehicles,  from  Father  to  Son ; if  you  demand  sight 
of  them,  they  are  nowhere  to  be  met  with.  Visible  Ploughmen 
and  Hammermen  there  have  been,  ever  from  Cain  and  Tubal- 
cain  downwards  : but  where  does  your  accumulated  Agricultural, 
Metallurgic,  and  other  Manufacturing  Skill  lie  warehoused  ? 
It  transmits  itself  on  the  atmospheric  air,  on  the  sun’s  rays 
(by  Hearing  and  by  Vision)  ; it  is  a thing  aeriform,  impalpable, 
of  quite  spiritual  sort.  In  like  manner,  ask  me  not,  Where  are 
the  Laws  ; where  is  the  Government  ? In  vain  wilt  thou 


Chap.  VIII. 


CENTRE  OF  INDIFFERENCE. 


131 


go  to  Schonbrunn,  to  Downing  Street,  to  the  Palais  Bourbon ; 
thou  findest  nothing  there  but  brick  or  stone  houses,  and  some 
bundles  of  Papers  tied  with  tape.  Where,  then,  is  that  same 
cunningly  devised  almighty  Government  of  theirs  to  be  laid 
hands  on  ? Everywhere,  yet  nowhere  : seen  only  in  its  works, 
this  too  is  a thing  aeriform,  invisible ; or  if  you  will,  mystic 
and  miraculous.  So  spiritual  ( geistig ) is  our  whole  daily  Life  : 
all  that  we  do  springs  out  of  Mystery,  Spirit,  invisible  Force ; 
only  like  a little  Cloud-image,  or  Armida’s  Palace,  air-built, 
does  the  Actual  body  itself  forth  from  the  great  mystic 
Deep. 

“ Visible  and  tangible  products  of  the  Past,  again,  I reckon 
up  to  the  extent  of  three : Cities,  with  their  Cabinets  and 
Arsenals  ; then  tilled  Fields,  to  either  or  to  both  of  which 
divisions  Roads  with  their  Bridges  may  belong ; and  thirdly 
— Books.  In  which  third  truly,  the  last  invented,  lies  a worth 
far  surpassing  that  of  the  two  others.  Wondrous  indeed  is 
the  virtue  of  a true  Book.  Not  like  a dead  city  of  stones, 
yearly  crumbling,  yearly  needing  repair;  more  like  a tilled 
field,  but  then  a spiritual  field:  like  a spiritual  tree,  let  me 
rather  say,  it  stands  from  year  to  year,  and  from  age  to  age 
(we  have  Books  that  already  number  some  hundred  and  fifty 
human  ages) ; and  yearly  comes  its  new  produce  of  leaves 
(Commentaries,  Deductions,  Philosophical,  Political  Systems ; 
or  were  it  only  Sermons,  Pamphlets,  Journalistic  Essays), 
every  one  of  which  is  talismanic  and  thaumaturgic,  for  it  can 
persuade  men.  0 thou  who  art  able  to  write  a Book,  which 
once  in  the  two  centuries  or  oftener  there  is  a man  gifted  to 
do,  envy  not  him  whom  they  name  City-builder,  and  inex- 
pressibly pity  him  whom  they  name  Conqueror  or  City-burner  ! 
Thou  too  art  a Conqueror  and  Victor;  but  of  the  true  sort, 
namely  over  the  Devil : thou  too  hast  built  what  will  outlast 
all  marble  and  metal,  and  be  a wonder-bringing  City  of  the 
Mind,  a Temple  and  Seminary  and  Prophetic  Mount,  where- 
to all  kindreds  of  the  Earth  will  pilgrim. — Fool!  why  jour- 
neyest  thou  wearisomely,  in  thy  antiquarian  fervor,  to  gaze 
on  the  stone  pyramids  of  Geeza,  or  the  clay  ones  of  Sacchara  ? 
These  stand  there,  as  I can  tell  thee,  idle  and  inert,  looking 


132 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


over  the  Desert,  foolishly  enough,  for  the  last  three  thousand 
years : but  canst  thou  not  open  thy  Hebrew  Bible,  then,  or 
even  Luther’s  Version  thereof?” 

No  less  satisfactory  is  his  sudden  appearance  not  in  Battle, 
yet  on  some  Battle-field ; which,  we  soon  gather,  must  be  that 
of  Wagram;  so  that  here,  for  once,  is  a certain  approximation 
to  distinctness  of  date.  Omitting  much,  let  us  impart  what 
follows : — 

“ Horrible  enough  ! A whole  Marchf eld  strewed  with 
shell-splinters,  cannon-shot,  ruined  tumbrils,  and  dead  men 
and  horses ; stragglers  still  remaining  not  so  much  as  buried. 
And  those  red  mould  heaps ; ay,  there  lie  the  Shells  of  Men, 
out  of  which  all  the  Life  and  Virtue  has  been  blown;  and 
now  are  they  swept  together,  and  crammed  down  out  of 
sight,  like  blown  Egg-shells  ! — Did  Nature,  when  she  bade 
the  Donau  bring  down  his  mould-cargoes  from  the  Carinthian 
and  Carpathian  Heights,  and  spread  them  out  here  into  the 
softest,  richest  level,  — intend  thee,  O Marchfeld,  for  a corn- 
bearing Nursery,  whereon  her  children  might  be  nursed;  or 
for  a Cockpit,  wherein  they  might  the  more  commodiously 
be  throttled  and  tattered  ? Were  thy  three  broad  Highways, 
meeting  here  from  the  ends  of  Europe,  made  for  Ammunition- 
wagons,  then  ? Were  thy  Wagrams  and  Stillfrieds  but  so 
many  ready-built  Casemates,  wherein  the  house  of  Hapsburg 
might  batter  with  artillery,  and  with  artillery  be  battered  ? 
Konig  Ottokar,  amid  yonder  hillocks,  dies  under  Rodolf’s 
truncheon ; here  Kaiser  Franz  falls  a-swoon  under  Napoleon’s  : 
within  which  five  centuries,  to  omit  the  others,  how  has  thy 
breast,  fair  Plain,  been  defaced  and  defiled  ! The  greensward 
is  torn  up  and  trampled  down ; man’s  fond  care  of  it,  his  fruit- 
trees,  hedge-rows,  and  pleasant  dwellings,  blown  away  with 
gunpowder;  and  the  kind  seedfield  lies  a desolate,  hideous 
Place  of  Skulls.  — Nevertheless,  Nature  is  at  work ; neither 
shall  these  Powder-Devilkins  with  their  utmost  devilry  gain- 
say her : but  all  that  gore  and  carnage  will  be  shrouded  in, 
absorbed  into  manure ; and  next  year  the  Marchfeld  will  be 
green,  nay  greener.  Thrifty  unwearied  Nature,  ever  out  of 
our  great  waste  educing  some  little  profit  of  thy  own,  — how 


Chap.  YIII.  CENTRE  OF  INDIFFERENCE.  133 

dost  thou,  from  the  very  carcass  of  the  Killer,  bring  Life  for 
the  Living ! 

“What,  speaking  in  quite  unofficial  language,  is  the  net 
purport  and  upshot  of  war  ? To  my  own  knowledge,  for 
example,  there  dwell  and  toil,  in  the  British  village  of  Dum- 
drudge,  usually  some  five  hundred  souls.  From  these,  by 
certain  ‘Natural  Enemies’  of  the  French,  there  are  succes- 
sively selected,  during  the  French  war,  say  thirty  able-bodied 
men ; Dumdrudge,  at  her  own  expense,  has  suckled  and 
nursed  them : she  has,  not  without  difficulty  and  sorrow,  fed 
them  up  to  manhood,  and  even  trained  them  to  crafts,  so  that 
one  can  weave,  another  build,  another  hammer,  and  the  weak- 
est can  stand  under  thirty  stone  avoirdupois.  Nevertheless, 
amid  much  weeping  and  swearing,  they  are  selected ; all 
dressed  in  red ; and  shipped  away,  at  the  public  charges,  some 
two  thousand  miles,  or  say  only  to  the  south  of  Spain ; and 
fed  there  till  wanted.  And  now  to  that  same  spot,  in  the 
south  of  Spain,  are  thirty  similar  French  artisans,  from  a 
French  Dumdrudge,  in  like  manner  wending:  till  at  length, 
after  infinite  effort,  the  two  parties  come  into  actual  juxta- 
position ; and  Thirty  stands  fronting  Thirty,  each  with  a gun 
in  his  hand.  Straightway  the  word  1 Fire  ! ’ is  given ; and  they 
blow  the  souls  out  of  one  another ; and  in  place  of  sixty  brisk 
useful  craftsmen,  the  world  has  sixty  dead  carcasses,  which 
it  must  bury,  and  anew  shed  tears  for.  Had  these  men  any 
quarrel  ? Busy  as  the  Devil  is,  not  the  smallest ! They 
lived  far  enough  apart ; were  the  entirest  strangers ; nay,  in  so 
wide  a Universe,  there  was  even,  unconsciously,  by  Commerce, 
some  mutual  helpfulness  between  them.  How  then  ? Simple- 
ton ! their  Governors  had  fallen  out ; and  instead  of  shooting 
one  another,  had  the  cunning  to  make  these  poor  blockheads 
shoot.  — Alas,  so  is  it  in  Deutschland,  and  hitherto  in  all  other 
lands ; still  as  of  old,  ‘ what  devilry  soever  Kings  do,  the 
Greeks  must  pay  the  piper  ! ’ — In  that  fiction  of  the  English 
Smollett,  it  is  true,  the  final  Cessation  of  War  is  perhaps  pro- 
phetically shadowed  forth ; where  the  two  Natural  Enemies, 
in  person,  take  each  a Tobacco-pipe,  filled  with  Brimstone; 
light  the  same,  and  smoke  in  one  another’s  faces,  till  the 


134 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


weaker  gives  in : but  from  such  predicted  Peace-Era,  what 
blood-filled  trenches,  and  contentious  centuries,  may  still  di- 
vide us  ! ” 

Thus  can  the  Professor,  at  least  in  lucid  intervals,  look 
away  from  his  own  sorrows,  over  the  many-colored  world,  and 
pertinently  enough  note  what  is  passing  there.  We  may 
remark,  indeed,  that  for  the  matter  of  spiritual  culture,  if  for 
nothing  else,  perhaps  few  periods  of  his  life  were  richer  than 
this.  Internally,  there  is  the  most  momentous  instructive 
Course  of  Practical  Philosophy,  with  Experiments,  going  on ; 
towards  the  right  comprehension  of  which  his  Peripatetic 
habits,  favorable  to  Meditation,  might  help  him  rather  than 
hinder.  Externally,  again,  as  he  wanders  to  and  fro,  there 
are,  if  for  the  longing  heart  little  substance,  yet  for  the  see- 
ing eye  sights  enough  : in  these  so  boundless  Travels  of  his, 
granting  that  the  Satanic  School  was  even  partially  kept 
down,  what  an  incredible  knowledge  of  our  Planet,  and  its 
Inhabitants  and  their  Works,  that  is  to  say,  of  all  knowable 
things,  might  not  Teufelsdrockh  acquire  ! 

“ I have  read  in  most  Public  Libraries,”  says  he,  “ including 
those  of  Constantinople  and  Samarcand:  in  most  Colleges, 
except  the  Chinese  Mandarin  ones,  I have  studied,  or  seen 
that  there  was  no  studying.  Unknown  Languages  have  I 
oftenest  gathered  from  their  natural  repertory,  the  Air,  by 
my  organ  of  Hearing;  Statistics,  Geographies,  Topographies 
came,  through  the  Eye,  almost  of  their  own  accord.  The 
ways  of  Man,  how  he  seeks  food,  and  warmth,  and  protection 
for  himself,  in  most  regions,  are  ocularly  known  to  me.  Like 
the  great  Hadrian,  I meted  out  much  of  the  terraqueous  Globe 
with  a pair  of  Compasses  that  belonged  to  myself  only. 

“ Of  great  Scenes  why  speak  ? Three  summer  days,  I 
lingered  reflecting,  and  even  composing  ( dichtete ),  by  the 
Pine-chasms  of  Yaucluse;  and  in  that  clear  Lakelet  moist- 
ened my  bread.  I have  sat  under  the  Palm-trees  of  Tadmor ; 
smoked  a pipe  among  the  ruins  of  Babylon.  The  great  Wall 
of  China  I have  seen ; and  can  testify  that  it  is  of  gray  brick, 
coped  and  covered  with  granite,  and  shows  only  second-rate 
masonry.  — Great  Events,  also,  have  not  I witnessed  ? Kings 


Chai>.  VIII. 


CENTRE  OF  INDIFFERENCE. 


135 


sweated  down  (ausg  enter  gelt)  into  Berlin-and-Milan  Custom- 
house-Officers ; the  World  well  won,  and  the  World  well  lost ; 
oftener  than  once  a hundred  thousand  individuals  shot  (by 
each  other)  in  one  day.  All  kindreds  and  peoples  and  na- 
tions dashed  together,  and  shifted  and  shovelled  into  heaps, 
that  they  might  ferment  there,  and  in  time  unite.  The  birth- 
pangs  of  Democracy,  wherewith  convulsed  Europe  was  groan- 
ing in  cries  that  reached  Heaven,  could  not  escape  me. 

“For  great  Men  I have  ever  had  the  warmest  predilection; 
and  can  perhaps  boast  that  few  such  in  this  era  have  wholly 
escaped  me.  Great  Men  are  the  inspired  (speaking  and  act- 
ing) Texts  of  that  divine  Book  of  Revelations,  whereof  a 
Chapter  is  completed  from  epoch  to  epoch,  and  by  some  named 
History;  to  which  inspired  Texts  your  numerous  talented 
men,  and  your  innumerable  untalented  men,  are  the  better  or 
worse  exegetic  Commentaries,  and  wagon-load  of  too-stupid, 
heretical  or  orthodox,  weekly  Sermons.  For  my  study,  the 
inspired  Texts  themselves!  Thus  did  not  I,  in  very  early 
days,  having  disguised  me  as  tavern-waiter,  stand  behind  the 
field-chairs,  under  that  shady  Tree  at  Treisnitz  by  the  Jena 
Highway ; waiting  upon  the  great  Schiller  and  greater  Goethe ; 
and  hearing  what  I have  not  forgotten.  For  — ” 

— But  at  this  point  the  Editor  recalls  his  principle  of  cau- 
tion, some  time  ago  laid  down,  and  must  suppress  much.  Let 
not  the  sacredness  of  Laurelled,  still  more,  of  Crowned  Heads, 
be  tampered  with.  Should  we,  at  a future  day,  find  cir- 
cumstances altered,  and  the  time  .come  for  Publication,  then 
may  these  glimpses  into  the  privacy  of  the  Illustrious  be  con- 
ceded ; which  for  the  present  were  little  better  than  treacher- 
ous, perhaps  traitorous  Eavesdroppings.  Of  Lord  Byron,  there- 
fore, of  Pope  Pius,  Emperor  Tarakwang,  and  the  u White 
Water-roses  ” (Chinese  Carbonari)  with  their  mysteries,  no 
notice  here ! Of  Napoleon  himself  we  shall  only,  glancing  from 
afar,  remark  that  Teufelsdrockh’s  relation  to  him  seems  to 
have  been  of  very  varied  character.  At  first  we  find  our  poor 
Professor  on  the  point  of  being  shot  as  a spy ; then  taken  into 
private  conversation,  even  pinched  on  the  ear,  yet  presented 
with  no  money ; at  last  indignantly  dismissed,  almost  thrown 


186 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


out  of  doors,  as  an  “Ideologist.”  “He  himself,”  says  the 
Professor,  “was  among  the  completest  Ideologists,  at  least 
Ideopraxists : in  the  Idea  (in  der  Idee)  he  lived,  moved  and 
fought.  The  man  was  a Divine  Missionary,  though  uncon- 
scious of  it ; and  preached,  through  the  cannon’s  throat,  that 
great  doctrine,  La  carriere  ouverte  aux  talens  (The  Tools  to  him 
that  can  handle  them),  which  is  our  ultimate  Political  Evan- 
gel, wherein  alone  can  liberty  lie.  Madly  enough  he  preached, 
it  is  true,  as  Enthusiasts  and  first  Missionaries  are  wont,  with 
imperfect  utterance,  amid  much  frothy  rant ; yet  as  articulately 
perhaps  as  the  case  admitted.  Or  call  him,  if  you  will,  an 
American  Backwoodsman,  who  had  to  fell  unpenetrated  for- 
ests, and  battle  with  innumerable  wolves,  and  did  not  entirely 
forbear  strong  liquor,  rioting,  and  even  theft ; whom,  notwith- 
standing, the  peaceful  Sower  will  follow,  and,  as  he  cuts  the 
boundless  harvest,  bless.” 

More  legitimate  and  decisively  authentic  is  Teufelsdrockh’s 
appearance  and  emergence  (we  know  not  well  whence)  in  the 
solitude  of  the  North  Cape,  on  that  June  Midnight.  He  has  a 
“ light- blue  Spanish  cloak  ” hanging  round  him,  as  his  “ most 
commodious,  principal,  indeed  sole  upper-garment ; ” and  stands 
there,  on  the  World-promontory,  looking  over  the  infinite 
Brine,  like  a little  blue  Belfry  (as  we  figure),  now  motionless 
indeed,  yet  ready,  if  stirred,  to  ring  quaintest  changes. 

“ Silence  as  of  death,”  writes  he ; “for  Midnight,  even  in  the 
Arctic  latitudes,  has  its  character:  nothing  but  the  granite 
cliffs  ruddy-tinged,  the  peaceable  gurgle  of  that  slow-heaving 
Polar  Ocean,  over  which  in  the  utmost  North  the  great  Sun 
hangs  low  and  lazy,  as  if  he  too  were  slumbering.  Yet  is  his 
cloud-couch  wrought  of  crimson  and  cloth-of-gold ; yet  does 
his  light  stream  over  the  mirror  of  waters,  like  a tremulous 
fire-pillar,  shooting  downwards  to  the  abyss,  and  hide  itself 
under  my  feet.  In  such  moments,  Solitude  also  is  invaluable ; 
for  who  would  speak,  or  be  looked  on,  when  behind  him  lies 
all  Europe  and  Africa,  fast  asleep,  except  the  watchmen ; and 
before  him  the  silent  Immensity,  and  Palace  of  the  Eternal, 
whereof  our  Sun  is  but  a porch-lamp  ? 

“Nevertheless,  in  this  solemn  moment  comes  a man,  or 


Chap.  VIII. 


CENTRE  OF  INDIFFERENCE. 


137 


monster,  scrambling  from  among  the  rock-hollows ; and,  shaggy, 
huge  as  the  Hyperborean  Bear,  hails  me  in  Russian  speech : 
most  probably,  therefore,  a Russian  Smuggler.  With  cour- 
teous brevity,  I signify  my  indifference  to  contraband  trade, 
my  humane  intentions,  yet  strong  wish  to  be  private.  In 
vain : the  monster,  counting  doubtless  on  his  superior  stature, 
and  minded  to  make  sport  for  himself,  or  perhaps  profit,  were 
it  with  murder,  continues  to  advance  ; ever  assailing  me  with 
his  importunate  train-oil  breath ; and  now  has  advanced,  till 
we  stand  both  on  the  verge  of  the  rock,  the  deep  Sea  rippling 
greedily  down  below.  What  argument  will  avail  ? On  the 
thick  Hyperborean,  cherubic  reasoning,  seraphic  eloquence 
were  lost.  Prepared  for  such  extremity,  I,  deftly  enough,  whisk 
aside  one  step ; draw  out,  from  my  interior  reservoirs,  a suffi- 
cient Birmingham  Horse-pistol,  and  say,  ‘Be  so  obliging  as 
retire,  Friend  (Er  ziehe  sick  zuriick,  Freund ),  and  with  promp- 
titude ! ’ This  logic  even  the  Hyperborean  understands  : fast 
enough,  with  apologetic,  petitionary  growl,  he  sidles  off ; and, 
except  for  suicidal  as  well  as  homicidal  purposes,  need  not 
return. 

“ Such  I hold  to  be  the  genuine  use  of  Gunpowder : that  it 
makes  all  men  alike  tall.  Nay,  if  thou  be  cooler,  cleverer 
than  I,  if  thou  have  more  Mind,  though  all  but  no  Body  what- 
ever, then  canst  thou  kill  me  first,  and  art  the  taller.  Hereby, 
at  last,  is  the  Goliath  powerless,  and  the  David  resistless ; sav- 
age Animalism  is  nothing,  inventive  Spiritualism  is  all. 

“With  respect  to  Duels,  indeed,  I have  my  own  ideas. 
Few  things,  in  this  so  surprising  world,  strike  me  with  more 
surprise.  Two  little  visual  Spectra  of  men,  hovering  with 
insecure  enough  cohesion  in  the  midst  of  the  Unfathomable, 
and  to  dissolve  therein,  at  any  rate,  very  soon,  — make  pause 
at  the  distance  of  twelve  paces  asunder;  whirl  round;  and, 
simultaneously  by  the  cunningest  mechanism,  explode  one 
another  into  Dissolution ; and  off-hand  become  Air,  and  Non- 
extant ! Deuce  on  it  ( verdammt ),  the  little  spitfires  ! — Nay,  I 
think  with  old  Hugo  von  Trimberg : ‘ God  must  needs  laugh 
outright,  could  such  a thing  be,  to  see  his  wondrous  Manikins 
here  below/  ” 


138 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


But  amid  these  specialties,  let  us  not  forget  the  great  gen- 
erality, which  is  our  chief  quest  here  : How  prospered  the 
inner  man  of  Teufelsdrockh  under  so  much  outward  shifting  ? 
Does  Legion  still  lurk  in  him,  though  repressed ; or  has  he  exor- 
cised that  Devil’s  Brood  ? We  can  answer  that  the  symptoms 
continue  promising.  Experience  is  the  grand  spiritual  Doctor ; 
and  with  him  Teufelsdrockh  has  now  been  long  a patient, 
swallowing  many  a bitter  bolus.  Unless  our  poor  Friend 
belong  to  the  numerous  class  of  Incurables,  which  seems 
not  likely,  some  cure  will  doubtless  be  effected.  We  should 
rather  say  that  Legion,  or  the  Satanic  School,  was  now  pretty 
well  extirpated  and  cast  out,  but  next  to  nothing  introduced  in 
its  room ; whereby  the  heart  remains,  for  the  while,  in  a quiet 
but  no  comfortable  state. 

“ At  length,  after  so  much  roasting,”  thus  writes  our  Auto- 
biographer, “ I was  what  you  might  name  calcined.  Pray  only 
that  it  be  not  rather,  as  is  the  more  frequent  issue,  reduced  to 
a cajput-mortuum  ! But  in  any  case,  by  mere  dint  of  practice, 
I had  grown  familiar  with  many  things.  Wretchedness  was 
still  wretched ; but  I could  now  partly  see  through  it,  and 
despise  it.  Which  highest  mortal,  in  this  inane  Existence,  had 
I not  found  a Shadow-hunter,  or  Shadow-hunted ; and,  when  I 
looked  through  his  brave  garnitures,  miserable  enough  ? Thy 
wishes  have  all  been  sniffed  aside,  thought  I : but  what,  had 
they  even  been  all  granted  ! Did  not  the  Boy  Alexander  weep 
because  he  had  not  two  Planets  to  conquer  ; or  a whole  Solar 
System  ; or  after  that,  a whole  Universe  ? Ach  Gott,  when  I 
gazed  into  these  Stars,  have  they  not  looked  down  on  me  as  if 
with  pity,  from  their  serene  spaces ; like  Eyes  glistening  with 
heavenly  tears  over  the  little  lot  of  man ! Thousands  of  human 
generations,  all  as  noisy  as  our  own,  have  been  swallowed  up 
of  Time,  and  there  remains  no  wreck  of  them  any  more ; and 
Arcturus  and  Orion  and  Sirius  and  the  Pleiades  are  still  shin- 
ing in  their  courses,  clear  and  young,  as  when  the  Shepherd 
first  noted  them  in  the  plain  of  Shinar.  Pshaw  ! what  is  this 
paltry  little  Dog-cage  of  an  Earth ; what  art  thou  that  sittest 
whining  there  ? Thou  art  still  Nothing,  Nobody  : true  ; but 
who,  then,  is  Something,  Somebody  ? Eor  thee  the  Family  of 


Chap.  IX.  THE  EVERLASTING  YEA.  139 

Man  has  no  use  ; it  rejects  thee  ; thou  art  wholly  as  a dis- 
severed limb  : so  be  it ; perhaps  it  is  better  so  ! ” 

Too-heavy-laden  Teufelsdrockh  ! Yet  surely  his  bands  are 
loosening  ; one  day  he  will  hurl  the  burden  far  from  him,  and 
bound  forth  free  and  with  a second  youth. 

“ This/’  says  our  Professor,  “ was  the  Centre  of  Indiffer- 
ence I had  now  reached  ; through  which  whoso  travels  from 
the  Negative  Pole  to  the  Positive  must  necessarily  pass.” 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  EVERLASTING  YEA. 

“ Temptations  in  the  Wilderness  ! ” exclaims  Teufelsdrockh : 
“ Have  we  not  all  to  be  tried  with  such  ? Not  so  easily  can  the 
old  Adam,  lodged  in  us  by  birth,  be  dispossessed.  Our  Life  is 
compassed  round  with  Necessity;  yet  is  the  meaning  of  Life 
itself  no  other  than  Freedom,  than  Voluntary  Force  : thus 
have  we  a warfare  ; in  the  beginning,  especially,  a hard-fought 
battle.  For  the  God-given  mandate,  Work  thou  in  Well-doing, 
lies  mysteriously  written,  in  Promethean  Prophetic  Charac- 
ters, in  our  hearts ; and  leaves  us  no  rest,  night  or  day,  till  it 
be  deciphered  and  obeyed  ; till  it  burn  forth,  in  our  conduct, 
a visible,  acted  Gospel  of  Freedom.  And  as  the  clay-given 
mandate,  Eat  thou  and  be  filled,  at  the  same  time  persuasively 
proclaims  itself  through  every  nerve,  — must  not  there  be  a 
confusion,  a contest,  before  the  better  Influence  can  become 
the  upper  ? 

“To  me  nothing  seems  more  natural  than  that  the  Son  of 
Man,  when  such  God-given  mandate  first  prophetically  stirs 
within  him,  and  the  Clay  must  now  be  vanquished  or  van- 
quish,— should  be  carried  of  the  spirit  into  grim  Solitudes, 
and  there  fronting  the  Tempter  do  grimmest  battle  with  him ; 
defiantly  setting  him  at  naught  till  he  yield  and  fly.  Name 
it  as  we  choose  : with  or  without  visible  Devil,  whether  in  the 


140 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


natural  Desert  of  rocks  and  sands,  or  in  the  populous  moral 
Desert  of  selfishness  and  baseness,  — to  such  Temptation  are 
we  all  called.  Unhappy  if  we  are  not ! Unhappy  if  we  are 
but  Half-men,  in  whom  that  divine  handwriting  has  never 
blazed  forth,  all-subduing,  in  true  sun-splendor ; but  quivers 
dubiously  amid  meaner  lights : or  smoulders,  in  dull  pain,  in 
darkness,  under  earthly  vapors  ! — Our  Wilderness  is  the  wide 
World  in  an  Atheistic  Century ; our  Forty  Days  are  long  years 
of  suffering  and  fasting : nevertheless,  to  these  also  comes  an 
end.  Yes,  to  me  also  was  given,  if  not  Victory,  yet  the  con- 
sciousness of  Battle,  and  the  resolve  to  persevere  therein  while 
life  or  faculty  is  left.  To  me  also,  entangled  in  the  enchanted 
forests,  demon-peopled,  doleful  of  sight  and  of  sound,  it  was 
given,  after  weariest  wanderings,  to  work  out  my  way  into 
the  higher  sunlit  slopes  — of  that  Mountain  which  has  no 
summit,  or  whose  summit  is  in  Heaven  only ! ” 

He  says  elsewhere,  under  a less  ambitious  figure ; as  fig- 
ures are,  once  for  all,  natural  to  him : “ Has  not  thy  Life 

been  that  of  most  sufficient  men  ( tuehtigen  Manner)  thou  hast 
known  in  this  generation  ? An  outflush  of/ foolish  young 
Enthusiasm,  like  the  first  fallow-crop,  wherein  are  as  many 
weeds  as  valuable  herbs : this  all  parched  away,  under  the 
Droughts  of  practical  and  spiritual  Unbelief,  as  Disappoint- 
ment, in  thought  and  act,  often-repeated  gave  rise  to  Doubt, 
and  Doubt  gradually  settled  into  Denial ! If  I have  had  a 
second-crop,  and  now  see  the  perennial  greensward,  and  sit 
under  umbrageous  cedars,  which  defy  all  Drought  (and  Doubt) ; 
herein  too,  be  the  Heavens  praised,  I am  not  without  exam- 
ples, and  even  exemplar s.” 

So  that,  for  Teufelsdrockh  also,  there  has  been  a ' glorious 
revolution  : ” these  mad  shadow-hunting  and  shadow-hunted 
Pilgrimings  of  his  were  but  some  purifying  “Temptation  in 
the  Wilderness,”  before  his  apostolic  work  (such  as  it  was) 
could  begin  ; which  Temptation  is  now  happily  over,  and  the 
Devil  once  more  worsted ! Was  “ that  high  moment  in  the 
Rue  de  VEnfer ,”  then,  properly  the  turning-point  of  the  battle ; 
when  the  Fiend  said,  Worship  me.  or  be  torn  in  shreds  ; and  was 
answered  valiantlv  with  an  Apage  Satana?  — Singular  Teu- 


Chap.  IX. 


THE  EVERLASTING  YEA. 


141 


felsdrdckh,  would  thou  hadst  told  thy  singular  story  in  plain 
words  ! But  it  is  fruitless  to  look  there,  in  those  Paper-bags, 
for  such.  Nothing  but  innuendoes,  figurative  crotchets : a 
typical  Shadow,  fitfully  wavering,  prophetico-satiric ; no  clear 
logical  Picture.  “How  paint  to  the  sensual  eye/’  asks  he 
once,  “ what  passes  in  the  Holy-of-Holies  of  Man’s  Soul ; in 
what  words,  known  to  these  profane  times,  speak  even  afar-off 
of  the  unspeakable?”  We  ask  in  turn:  Why  perplex  these 
times,  profane  as  they  are,  with  needless  obscurity,  by  omis- 
sion and  by  commission  ? Not  mystical  only  is  our  Professor, 
but  whimsical ; and  involves  himself,  now  more  than  ever,  in 
eye-bewildering  chiaroscuro.  Successive  glimpses,  here  faith- 
fully imparted,  our  more  gifted  readers  must  endeavor  to  com- 
bine for  their  own  behoof. 

He  says  : “ The  hot,  Harmattan  wind  had  raged  itself  out ; 
its  howl  went  silent  within  me ; and  the  long-deafened  soul 
could  now  hear.  I paused  in  my  wild  wanderings  ; and  sat 
me  down  to  wait,  and  consider  ; for  it  was  as  if  the  hour 
of  change  drew  nigh.  I seemed  to  surrender,  to  renounce 
utterly,  and  say : Fly,  then,  fals.e  shadows  of  Hope ; I will 
chase  you  no  more,  I will  believe  you  no  more.  And  ye 
too,  haggard  spectres  of  Fear,  I care  not  for  you ; ye  too 
are  all  shadows  and  a lie.  Let  me  rest  here  : for  I am  way- 
weary  and  life-weary ; I will  rest  here,  were  it  but  to  die  : 
to  die  or  to  live  is  alike  to  me ; alike  insignificant.”  — And 
again : “ Here,  then,  as  I lay  in  that  Centre  of  Indiffer- 
ence ; cast,  doubtless  by  benignant  upper  Influence,  into  a 
healing  sleep,  the  heavy  dreams  rolled  gradually  away,  and  I 
awoke  to  a new  Heaven  and  a new  Earth.  The  first  prelimi- 
nary moral  Act,  Annihilation  of  Self  ( Selbst-todtung ),  had 
been  happily  accomplished ; and  my  mind’s  eyes  were  now 
unsealed,  and  its  hands  ungyved.” 

Might  we  not  also  conjecture  that  the  following  passage 
refers  to  his  Locality,  during  this  same  “ healing  sleep ; ” that 
his  Pilgrim-staff  lies  cast  aside  here,  on  “ the  high  table-land ; ” 
and  indeed  that  the  repose  is  already  taking  wholesome  effect 
on  him  ? If  it  were  not  that  the  tone,  in  some  parts,  has 
more  of  riancy,  even  of  levity,  than  we  could  have  expected ! 


142 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


• Book  II. 


However,  in  Teufelsdrockh,  there  is  always  the  strangest  Dual- 
ism  : light  dancing,  with  guitar-music,  will  be  going  on  in  the 
fore-court,  while  by  fits  from  within  comes  the  faint  whimper- 
ing of  woe  and  wail.  We  transcribe  the  piece  entire. 

u Beautiful  it  was  to  sit  there,  as  in  my  skyey  Tent,  musing 
and  meditating ; on  the  high  table-land,  in  front  of  the  Moun- 
tains ; over  me,  as  roof,  the  azure  Dome,  and  around  me,  for 
walls,  four  azure-flowing  curtains,  — namely,  of  the  Four  azure 
Winds,  on  whose  bottom-fringes  also  I have  seen  gilding. 
And  then  to  fancy  the  fair  Castles  that  stood  sheltered  in 
these  Mountain  hollows ; with  their  green  flower-lawns,  and 
white  dames  and  damosels,  lovely  enough  : or  better  still,  the 
straw-roofed  Cottages,  wherein  stood  many  a Mother  baking 
bread,  with  her  children  round  her : — all  hidden  and  protect- 
ingly  folded  up  in  the  valley-folds  ; yet  there  and  alive,  as  sure 
as  if  I beheld  them.  Or  to  see,  as  well  as  fancy,  the  nine  Towns 
and  Villages,  that  lay  round  my  mountain-seat,  which,  in  still 
weather,  were  wont  to  speak  to  me  (by  their  steeple-bells)  with 
metal  tongue ; and,  in  almost  all  weather,  proclaimed  their 
vitality  by  repeated  Smoke-clouds ; whereon,  as  on  a culinary 
horologe,  I might  read  the  hour  of  the  day.  For  it  was  the 
smoke  of  cookery,  as  kind  housewives  at  morning,  midday,  even- 
tide, were  boiling  their  husbands7  kettles ; and  ever  a blue  pillar 
rose  up  into  the  air,  successively  or  simultaneously,  from  each 
of  the  nine,  saying,  as  plainly  as  smoke  could  say : Such  and 
such  a meal  is  getting  ready  here.  Not  uninteresting  ! For 
you  have  the  whole  Borough,  with  all  its  love-makings  and  scan- 
dal-mongeries,  contentions  and  contentments,  as  in  miniature, 
and  could  cover  it  all  with  your  hat.  — If,  in  my  wide  Way- 
farings, I had  learned  to  look  into  the  business  of  the  World 
in  its  details,  here  perhaps  was  the  place  for  combining  it  into 
general  propositions,  and  deducing  inferences  therefrom. 

“ Often  also  could  I see  the  black  Tempest  marching  in 
anger  through  the  Distance : round  some  Schreckhorn,  as 
yet  grim-blue,  would  the  eddying  vapor  gather,  and  there 
tumultuously  eddy,  and  flow  down  like  a mad  witch’s  hair  ; 
till,  after  a space,  it  vanished,  and,  in  the  clear  sunbeam,  your 
Schreckhorn  stood  smiling  grim-white,  for  the  vapor  had  held 


Chap  IX. 


THE  EVERLASTING  YEA. 


143 


snow.  How  thou  fermentest  and  elaboratest,  in  thy  great 
fermenting-vat  and  laboratory  of  an  Atmosphere,  of  a World, 
0 Nature  ! — Or  what  is  Nature  ? Ha  ! why  do  I not  name 
thee  Gon  ? Art  not  thou  the  ‘ Living  Garment  of  God  ’ ? 
0 Heavens,  is  it,  in  very  deed,  He,  then,  that  ever  speaks 
through  thee  ; that  lives  and  loves  in  thee,  that  lives  and  loves 
in  me  ? 

“ Fore-shadows,  call  them  rather  fore-splendors,  of  that  Truth, 
and  Beginning  of  Truths,  fell  mysteriously  over  my  soul. 
Sweeter  than  Day  spring  to  the  Shipwrecked  in  Nova  Zembla  ; 
ah,  like  the  mother’s  voice  to  her  little  child  that  strays  bewil- 
dered, weeping,  in  unknown  tumults  ; like  soft  streamings  of 
celestial  music  to  my  too-exasperated  heart,  came  that  Evan- 
gel. The  Universe  is  not  dead  and  demoniacal,  a charnel- 
house  with  spectres  ; but  godlike,  and  my  Father’s  ! 

“With  other  eyes,  too,  could  I now  look  upon  my  fellow- 
man  : with  an  infinite  Love,  an  infinite  Pity.  Poor,  wandering, 
wayward  man ! Art  thou  not  tried,  and  beaten  with  stripes, 
even  as  I am  ? Ever,  whether  thou  bear  the  royal  mantle  or 
the  beggar’s  gabardine,  art  thou  not  so  weary,  so  heavy-laden ; 
and  thy  Bed  of  Rest  is  but  a Grave.  0 my  Brother,  my . 
Brother,  why  cannot  I shelter  thee  in  my  bosom,  and  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  thy  eyes  ! — Truly,  the  din  of  many-voiced 
Life,  which,  in  this  solitude,  with  the  mind’s  organ,  I could 
hear,  was  no  longer  a maddening  discord,  but  a melting  one  ; 
like  inarticulate  cries,  and  sobbings  of  a dumb  creature,  which 
in  the  ear  of  Heaven  are  prayers.  The  poor  Earth,  with  her 
poor  joys,  was  now  my  needy  Mother,  not  my  cruel  Stepdame  ; 
Man,  with  his  so  mad  Wants  and  so  mean  Endeavors,  had 
become  the  dearer  to  me  ; and  even  for  his  sufferings  and  his 
sins,  I now  first  named  him  Brother.  Thus  was  I standing  in 
the  porch  of  that  ‘ Sanctuary  of  Sorrow  • ’ by  strange,  steep 
ways  had  I too  been  guided  thither ; and  ere  long  its  sacred 
gates  would  open,  and  the  ‘ Divine  Depth  of  Sorrow  ’ lie  dis- 
closed to  me.” 

The  Professor  says,  he  here  first  got  eye  on  the  Knot  that 
had  been  strangling  him,  and  straightway  could  unfasten  it, 
and  was  free.  “ A vain  interminable  controversy,”  writes  he, 


144 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


i;  touching  what  is  at  present  called  Origin  of  Evil,  or  some 
such  thing,  arises  in  every  soul,  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world ; and  in  every  soul,  that  would  pass  from  idle  Suffering 
into  actual  Endeavoring,  must  first  be  put  an  end  to.  The 
most,  in  our  time,  have  to  go  content  with  a simple,  incomplete 
enough  Suppression  of  this  controversy ; to  a few  some  Solu- 
tion of  it  is  indispensable.  In  every  new  era,  too,  such  Solu- 
tion comes  out  in  different  terms  j and  ever  the  Solution  of 
the  last  era  has  become  obsolete,  and  is  found  unserviceable. 
Eor  it  is  man’s  nature  to  change  his  Dialect  from  century  to 
century ; he  cannot  help  it  though  he  would.  The  authentic 
Church-Catechism  of  our  present  century  has  not  yet  fallen 
into  my  hands : meanwhile,  for  my  own  private  behoof,  I 
attempt  to  elucidate  the  matter  so.  Man’s  Unhappiness,  as 
I construe,  comes  of  his  Greatness ; it  is  because  there  is  an 
Infinite  in  him,  which  with  all  his  cunning  he  cannot  quite 
bury  under  the  Einite.  Will  the  whole  Finance  Ministers  and 
Upholsterers  and  Confectioners  of  modern  Europe  undertake, 
in  joint-stock  company,  to  make  one  Shoeblack  happy  ? They 
cannot  accomplish  it,  above  an  hour  or  two : for  the  Shoeblack 
also  has  a Soul  quite  other  than  his  Stomach ; and  would 
require,  if  you  consider  it,  for  his  permanent  satisfaction 
and  saturation,  simply  this  allotment,  no  more,  and  no  less : 
God’s  infinite  Universe  altogether  to  himself  \ therein  to  enjoy 
infinitely,  and  fill  every  wish  as  fast  as  it  rose.  Oceans  of 
Hochheimer,  a Throat  like  that  of  Ophiuchus  : speak  not  of 
them ; to  the  infinite  Shoeblack  they  are  as  nothing.  No 
sooner  is  your  ocean  filled,  than  he  grumbles  that  it  might 
have  been  of  better  vintage.  Try  him  with  half  of  a Universe, 
of  an  Omnipotence,  he  sets  to  quarrelling  with  the  proprietor 
of  the  other  half,  and  declares  himself  the  most  maltreated  of 
men.  — Always  there  is  a black  spot  in  our  sunshine  : it  is 
even,  as  I said,  the  Shadow  of  Ourselves. 

“But  the  whim  we  have  of  Happiness  is  somewhat  thus. 
By  certain  valuations,  and  averages,  of  our  own  striking,  we 
come  upon  some  sort  of  average  terrestrial  lot ; this  we  fancy 
belongs  to  us  by  nature,  and  of  indefeasible  right.  It  is  simple 
payment  of  our  wages,  of  our  deserts ; requires  neither  thanks* 


Chap.  IX. 


THE  EVERLASTING  YEA. 


145 


nor  complaint ; only  such  overplus  as  there  may  be  do  we  ac- 
count Happiness ; any  deficit  again  is  Misery.  Now  consider 
that  we  have  the  valuation  of  our  own  deserts  ourselves,  and 
what  a fund  of  Self-conceit  there  is  in  each  of  us,  — do  you 
wonder  that  the  balance  should  so  often  dip  the  wrong  way, 
and  many  a Blockhead  cry : See  there,  what  a payment ; was 
ever  worthy  gentleman  so  used  ! — I tell  thee,  Blockhead,  it 
all  comes  of  thy  Vanity;  of  what  thou  fanciest  those  same 
deserts  of  thine  to  be.  Fancy  that  thou  deservest  to  be 
hanged  (as  is  most  likely),  thou  wilt  feel  it  happiness  to  be 
only  shot : fancy  that  thou  deservest  to  be  hanged  in  a hair- 
halter,  it  will  be  a luxury  to  die  in  hemp. 

“ So  true  is  it,  what  I then  said,  that  the  Fraction  of  Life  can 
be  increased  in  value  not  so  much  by  increasing  your  Numerator 
as  by  lessening  your  Denominator.  Nay,  unless  my  Algebra 
deceive  me,  Unity  itself  divided  by  Zero  will  give  Infinity. 
Make  thy  claim  of  wages  a zero,  then ; thou  hast  the  world 
under  thy  feet.  Well  did  the  Wisest  of  our  time  write:  ‘It 
is  only  with  Renunciation  ( Entsagen ) that  Life,  properly 
speaking,  can  be  said  to  begin/ 

“ I asked  myself : What  is  this  that,  ever  since  earliest 
years,  thou  hast  been  fretting  and  fuming,  and  lamenting  and 
self-tormenf ing,  on  account  of  ? Say  it  in  a word  : is  it  not 
because  thou  art  not  happy?  Because  the  Thou  (sweet  gen- 
tleman) is  not  sufficiently  honored,  nourished,  soft-bedded,  and 
lovingly  cared  for  ? Foolish  soul ! What  Act  of  Legislature 
was  there  that  thou  shouldst  be  Happy  ? A little  while  ago 
thou  hadst  no  right  to  be  at  all.  What  if  thou  wert  born  and 
predestined  not  to  be  Happy,  but  to  be  Unhappy ! Art  thou 
nothing  other  than  a Vulture,  then,  that  fliest  through  the  Uni- 
verse seeking  after  somewhat  to  eat ; and  shrieking  dolefully 
because  carrion  enough  is  not  given  thee  ? Close  thy  Byron  ; 
open  thy  Goethe.” 

u Es  leuchtet  mir  ein,  I see  a glimpse  of  it!”  cries  he  else- 
where: “ there  is  in  man  a Higher  than  Love  of  Happiness  : 
he  can  do  without  Happiness,  and  instead  thereof  find  Blessed- 
ness ! Was  it  not  to  preach  forth  this  same  Higher  that  sages 
and  martyrs,  the  Poet  and  the  Priest,  in  all  times,  have  spoken 
VOL.  i.  10 


146 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


and  suffered ; bearing  testimony,  through  life  and ' through 
death,  of  the  Godlike  that  is  in  Man,  and  how  in  the  Godlike 
only  has  he  Strength  and  Freedom?  Which  God-inspired 
Doctrine  art  thou  also  honored  to  be  taught ; 0 Heavens  ! and 
broken  with  manifold  merciful  Afflictions,  even  till  thou  be- 
come contrite  and  learn  it ! Oh,  thank  thy  Destiny  for  these ; 
thankfully  bear  what  yet  remain : thou  hadst.  need  of  them ; 
the  Self  in  thee  needed  to  be  annihilated.  By  benignant  fever- 
paroxysms  is  Life  rooting  out  the  deep-seated  chronic  Disease, 
and  triumphs  over  Death.  On  the  roaring  billows  of  Time, 
thou  art  not  engulfed,  but  borne  aloft  into  the  azure  of  Eter- 
nity. Love  not  Pleasure ; love  God.  This  is  the  Everlasting 
Yea,  wherein  all  contradiction  is  solved : wherein  whoso  walks 
and  works,  it  is  well  with  him.” 

And  again : “ Small  is  it  that  thou  canst  trample  the  Earth 
with  its  injuries  under  thy  feet,  as  old  Greek  Zeno  trained 
thee  : thou  canst  love  the  Earth  while  it  injures  thee,  and 
even  because  it  injures  thee  ; for  this  a Greater  than  Zeno 
was  needed,  and  he  too  was  sent.  Knowest  thou  that  ‘ Wor- 
ship of  Sorrow  ’ ? The  Temple  thereof,  founded  some  eighteen 
centuries  ago,  now  lies  in  ruins,  overgrown  with  jungle,  the 
habitation  of  doleful  creatures  : nevertheless,  venture  forward ; 
in  a low  crypt,  arched  out  of  falling  fragments,  thou  findest  the 
Altar  still  there,  and  its  sacred  Lamp  perennially  burning.” 
Without  pretending  to  comment  on  which  strange  utter- 
ances, the  Editor  wiil  only  remark,  that  there  lies  beside  them 
much  of  a still  more  questionable  character ; unsuited  to  the 
general  apprehension;  nay  wherein  he  himself  does  not  see 
his  way.  Nebulous  disquisitions  on  Religion,  yet  not  without 
bursts  of  splendor ; on  the  “ perennial  continuance  of  Inspira- 
tion ; ” on  Prophecy ; that  there  are  “ true  Priests,  as  well  as 
Baal-Priests,  in  our  own  day : ” with  more  of  the  like  sort. 
We  select  some  fractions,  by  way  of  finish  to  this  farrago. 

“ Cease,  my  much-respeCted  Herr  von  Voltaire,”  thus  apos- 
trophizes the  Professor : “ shut  thy  sweet  voice ; for  the  task 
appointed  thee  seems  finished.  Sufficiently  hast  thou  demon- 
strated this  proposition,  considerable  or  otherwise : That  the 
Mythus  of  the  Christian  Religion  looks  not  in  the  eighteenth 


Chap.  IX. 


THE  EVERLASTING  YEA. 


147 


century  as  it  did  in  the  eighth.  Alas,  were  thy  six-and-thirty 
quartos,  and  the  six-and-thirty  thousand  other  quartos  and 
folios,  and  flying  sheets  or  reams,  printed  before  and  since  on 
the  same  subject,  all  needed  to  convince  us  of  so  little  ! But 
what  next  ? Wilt  thou  help  us  to  embody  the  divine  Spirit  of 
that  Religion  in  a new  My  thus,  in  a new  vehicle  and  vesture, 
that  our  Souls,  otherwise  too  like  perishing,  may  live  ? What ! 
thou  hast  no  faculty  in  that  kind  ? Only  a torch  for  burning, 
no  hammer  for  building?  Take  our  thanks,  then,  and  — thy- 
self away.  % 

“ Meanwhile  what  are  antiquated  Mythuses  to  me  ? Or  is. 
the  God  present,  felt  in  my  own  heart,  a thing  which  Herr  Vom 
Voltaire  will  dispute  out  of  me  ; or  dispute  into  me  ? To  the 
‘ Worship  of  Sorrow ’ ascribe  what  origin  and  genesis  thorn 
pleasest,  has  not  that  Worship  originated,  and  been  generated;; 
is  it  not  here?  Feel  it  in  thy  heart,  and  then  say  whether  it 
is  of  God ! This  is  Belief ; all  else  is  Opinion,  — for  which 
latter  whoso  will,  let  him  worry  and  be  worried.” 

“ Neither,”  observes  he  elsewhere,  “ shall  ye  tear  out  one1 
another’s  eyes,  struggling  over  ‘Plenary  Inspiration,’  and 
such  like  : try  rather  to  get  a little  even  Partial  Inspiration,, 
each  of  you  for  himself.  One  Bible  I know,  of  whose  Plenary 
Inspiration  doubt  is  not  so  much  as  possible ; nay  with  my 
own  eyes  I saw  the  God’s-Hand  writing  it : thereof  all  other 
Bibles  are  but  Leaves,  — say,  in  Picture-Writing  to  assist  the 
weaker  faculty.” 

Or,  to  give  the  wearied  reader  relief,  and  bring  it  to  am 
end,  let  him  take  the  following  perhaps  more  intelligible 
passage : — 

“ To  me,  in  this  our  life,”  says  the  Professor,  “ which  is  an 
internecine  warfare  with  the  Time-spirit,  other  warfare  seems 
questionable.  Hast  thou  in  any  way  a Contention  with  thy 
brother,  I advise  thee,  think  well  what  the  meaning  thereof 
is.  If  thou  gauge  it  to  the  bottom,  it  is  simply  this  : ‘ Fellow, 
see ! thou  art  taking  more  than  thy  share  of  Happiness  in 
the  world,  something  from  my  share : which,  by  the  Heavens, 
thou  shalt  not ; nay  I will  fight  thee  rather.’  — Alas,  and  the 
whole  lot  to  be  divided  is  such  a beggarly  matter,  truly  a 


148 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


1 feast  of  shells/  for  the  substance  has  been  spilled  out : not 
enough  to  quench  one  Appetite  5 and  the  collective  human 
species  clutching  at  them! — 'Can  we  not,  in  all  such  cases, 
rather  say : ‘ Take  it,  thou  too-ravenous  individual  5 take 

that  pitiful  additional  fraction  of  a share,  which  I reckoned 
mine,  but  which  thou  so  wantest ; take  it  with  a blessing : 
would  to  Heaven  I had  enough  for  thee  ! ’ — If  Fichte’s  Wis- 
senschaftslehre  be,  1 to  a certain  extent,  Applied  Christianity/ 
surely  to  a still  greater  extent,  so  is  this.  We  have  here  not 
a Whole  Duty  of  Man,  yet  a Half  Duty,  namely  the  Passive 
half : could  we  but  do  it,  as  we  can  demonstrate  it ! 

“But  indeed  Conviction,  were  it  never  so  excellent,  is 
worthless  till  it  convert  itself  into  Conduct.  Nay  properly 
Conviction  is  not  possible  till  then;  inasmuch  as  all  Specu- 
lation is  by  nature  endless,  formless,  a vortex  amid  vortices, 
only  by  a felt  indubitable  certainty  of  Experience  does  it 
find  any  centre  to  revolve  round,  and  so  fashion  itself  into 
a system.  Most  true  is  it,  as  a wise  man  teaches  us,  that 
‘Doubt  of  any  sort  cannot  be  removed  except  by  Action.’ 
On  which  ground,  too,  let  him  who  gropes  painfully  in  dark- 
ness or  uncertain  light,  and  prays  vehemently  that  the  dawn 
may  ripen  into  day,  lay  this  other  precept  well  to  heart,  which 
to  me  was  of  invaluable  service : ‘ Do  the  Duty  which  lies 
nearest  thee ,’  which  thou  knowest  to  be  a Duty ! Thy  second 
Duty  will  already  have  become  clearer. 

“May  we  not  say,  however,  that  the  hour  of  Spiritual  En- 
franchisement is  even  this : When  your  Ideal  World,  wherein 
the  whole  man  has  been  dimly  struggling  and  inexpressibly 
languishing  to  work,  becomes  revealed,  and  thrown  open; 
and  you  discover,  with  amazement  enough,  like  the  Lothario 
in  Wilhelm  Meister , that  your  ‘ America  is  here  or  nowhere  ’ ? 
The  Situation  that  has  not  its  Duty,  its  Ideal,  was  never  yet 
occupied  by  man.  Yes  here,  in  this  poor,  miserable,  ham- 
pered, despicable  Actual,  wherein  thou  even  now  standest, 
here  or  nowhere  is  thy  Ideal:  work  it  out  therefrom;  and 
working,  believe,  live,  be  free.  Fool ! the  Ideal  is  in  thyself, 
the  impediment  tools  in  thyself:  thy  Condition  is  but  the 
stuff  thou  art  to  shape  that  same  Ideal  out  of : what  matters 


Chap.  X. 


PAUSE. 


149 


whether  such  stuff  be  of  this  sort  or  that,  so  the  Form  thou 
give  it  be  heroic,  be  poetic  ? 0 thou  that  pinest  in  the  im- 

prisonment of  the  Actual,  and  criest  bitterly  to  the  gods  for 
a kingdom  wherein  to  rule  and  create,  know  this  of  a truth : 
the  thing  thou  seekest  is  already  with  thee,  ‘here  or  no- 
where/ couldst  thou  only  see ! 

“ But  it  is  with  man’s  Soul  as  it  was  with  Nature : the 
beginning  of  Creation  is  — Light.  Till  the  eye  have  vision, 
the  whole  members  are  in  bonds.  Divine  moment,  when 
over  the  tempest-tost  Soul,  as  once  over  the  wild-weltering 
Chaos,  it  is  spoken : Let  there  be  Light ! Ever  to  the  great- 
est that  has  felt  such  moment,  is  it  not  miraculous  and  God- 
announcing; even  as,  under  simpler  figures,  to  the  simplest 
and  least.  The  mad  primeval  Discord  is  hushed ; the  rudely 
jumbled  conflicting  elements  bind  themselves  into  separate 
Firmaments : deep  silent  rock-foundations  are  built  beneath ; 
and  the  skyey  vault  with  its  everlasting  Luminaries  above : 
instead  of  a dark  wasteful  Chaos,  we  have  a blooming,  fertile, 
heaven-encompassed  World. 

“I  too  could  now  say  to  myself:  Be  no  longer  a Chaos, 
but  a World,  or  even  Worldkin.  Produce  ! Produce  ! Were  it 
but  the  pitifullest  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a Product,  pro- 
duce it,  in  God’s  name  ! ’T  is  the  utmost  thou  hast  in  thee  : 
out  with  it,  then.  Up,  up!  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth 
to  do,  do  it  with  thy  whole  might.  Work  while  it  is  called 
To-day ; for  the  Night  cometh,  wherein  no  man  can  work.” 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAUSE. 

Thus  have  we,  as  closely  and  perhaps  satisfactorily  as,  in 
such  circumstances,  might  be,  followed  Teufelsdrockh  through 
the  various  successive  states  and  stages  of  Growth,  Entangle- 
ment, Unbelief,  and  almost  Reprobation,  into  a certain  clearer 


150 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


state  of  what  he  himself  seems  to  consider  as  Conversion. 
“Blame  not  the  word,”  says  he;  “rejoice  rather  that  such 
a word,  signifying  such  a thing,  has  come  to  light  in  our 
modern  Era,  though  hidden  from  the  wisest  Ancients.  The 
Old  World  knew  nothing  of  Conversion;  instead  of  an  Ecce 
Homo,  they  had  only  some  Choice  of  Hercules.  It  was  a new- 
attained  progress  in  the  Moral  Development  of  man:  here- 
by has  the  Highest  come  home  to  the  bosoms  of  the  most 
Limited;  what  to  Plato  was  but  a hallucination,  and  to 
Socrates  a chimera,  is  now  clear  and  certain  to  your  Zinzen- 
dorfs,  your  Wesleys,  and  the  poorest  of  their  Pietists  and 
Methodists.” 

It  is  here,  then,  that  the  spiritual  majority  of  Teufels- 
drockh  commences  : we  are  henceforth  to  see  him  “ work  in 
well-doing,”  with  the  spirit  and  clear  aims  of  a Man.  He  has 
discovered  that  the  Ideal  Workshop  he  so  panted  for  is  even 
this  same  Actual  ill-furnished  Workshop  he  has  so  long  been 
stumbling  in.  He  can  say  to  himself : “ Tools  ? Thou  hast 
no  Tools  ? Why,  there  is  not  a Man,  or  a Thing,  now  alive 
but  has  tools.  The  basest  of  created  animalcules,  the  Spider 
itself,  has  a spinning-jenny,  and  warping-mill,  and  power- 
loom  within  its  head:  the  stupidest  of  Oysters  has  a Papin’s- 
Digester,  with  stone-and-lime  house  to  hold  it  in : every 
being  that  can  live  can  do  something : this  let  him  do.  — 
Tools  ? Hast  thou  not  a Brain,  furnished,  furnishable  with 
some  glimmerings  of  Light;  and  three  fingers  to  hold  a 
Pen  withal  ? Never  since  Aaron’s  Rod  went  out  of  practice, 
or  even  before  it,  was  there  such  a wonder-working  Tool : 
greater  than  all  recorded  miracles  have  been  performed  by 
Pens.  Eor  strangely  in  this  so  solid-seeming  World,  which 
nevertheless  is  in  continual  restless  flux,  it  is  appointed  that 
Sound,  to  appearance  the  most  fleeting,  should  be  the  most 
continuing  of  all  things.  The  Word  is  well  said  to  be 
omnipotent  in  this  world;  man,  thereby  divine,  can  create 
as  by  a Fiat.  Awake,  arise ! Speak  forth  what  is  in  thee ; 
what  God  has  given  thee,  what  the  Devil  shall  not  take 
away.  Higher  task  than  that  of  Priesthood  was  allotted  to 
no  man:  wert  thou  but  the  meanest  in  that  sacred  Hie- 


PAUSE. 


Chap.  X. 


151 


rarchy,  is  it  not  honor  enough  therein  to  spend  and  be 
spent  ? 

“ By  this  Art,  which  whoso  will  may  sacrilegiously  degrade 
into  a handicraft,”  adds  Teufelsdrockh,  “ have  I thenceforth 
abidden.  Writings  of  mine,  not  indeed  known  as  mine  (for 
what  am  I?),  have  fallen,  perhaps  not  altogether  void,  into 
the  mighty  seedfield  of  Opinion ; fruits  of  my  unseen  sowing 
gratifyingly  meet  me  here  and  there.  I thank  the  Heavens 
that  I have  now  found  my  Calling ; wherein,  with  or  without 
perceptible  result,  I am  minded  diligently  to  persevere. 

“Nay  how  knowest  thou,”  cries  he,  “but  this  and  the  other 
pregnant  Device,  now  grown  to  be  a world-renowned  far-work- 
ing Institution ; like  a grain  of  right  mustard-seed  once  cast 
into  the  right  soil,  and  now  stretching  out  strong  boughs  to 
the  four  winds,  for  the  birds  of  the  air  to  lodge  in,  — may 
have  been  properly  my  doing  ? Some  one’s  doing,  it  without 
doubt  was  ; from  some  Idea,  in  some  single  Head,  it  did  first 
of  all  take  beginning : why  not  from  some  Idea  in  mine  ? ” 
Does  Teufelsdrockh  here  glance  at  that  “Society  for  the 
Conservation  of  Property  ( Eigenthums-conservirende  Gesell- 
schaft),”  of  which  so  many  ambiguous  notices  glide  spectre-like 
through  these  inexpressible  Paper-bags  ? “ An  Institution,” 
hints  he,  “ not  unsuitable  to  the  wants  of  the  time  ; as  indeed 
such  sudden  extension  proves  : for  already  can  the  Society 
number,  among  its  office-bearers  or  corresponding  members,  the 
highest  Names,  if  not  the  highest  Persons,  in  Germany,  Eng- 
land, France  ; and  contributions,  both  of  money  and  of  medi- 
tation, pour  in  from  all  quarters  ; to,  if  possible,  enlist  the 
remaining  Integrity  of  the  world,  and,  defensively  and  with 
forethought,  marshal  it  round  this  Palladium.”  Does  Teufels- 
drockh mean,  then,  to  give  himself  out  as  the  originator  of 
that  so  notable  Eigenthums-conservirende  (“  Owndom-conserv- 
ing  ” ) Gesellschaft ; and  if  so,  what,  in  the  Devil’s  name,  is 
it  ? He  again  hints  : “ At  a time  when  the  divine  Command- 
ment, Thou  shalt  not  steal,  wherein  truly,  if  well  understood, 
is  comprised  the  whole  Hebrew  Decalogue,  with  Solon’s  and 
Lycurgus’s  Constitutions,  Justinian’s  Pandects,  the  Code  Na- 
poleon, and  all  Codes,  Catechisms,  Divinities,  Moralities  what- 


152 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


soever,  that  man  has  hitherto  devised  (and  enforced  with 
Altar-fire  and  Gallows-ropes)  for  his  social  guidance  : at  a 
time,  I say,  when  this  divine  Commandment  has  all  but  faded 
away  from  the  general  remembrance  ; and,  with  little  disguise, 
a new  opposite  Commandment,  Thou  shalt  steal , is  everywhere 
promulgated,  — it  perhaps  behooved,  in  this  universal  dotage 
and  deliration,  the  sound  portion  of  mankind  to  bestir  them- 
selves and  rally.  When  the  widest  and  wildest  violations  of 
that  divine  right  of  Property,  the  only  divine  right  now  extant 
or  conceivable,  are  sanctioned  and  recommended  by  a vicious 
Press,  and  the  world  has  lived  to  hear  it  asserted  that  we  have 
no  Property  in  our  very  Bodies , but  only  an  accidental  Possession 
and  Life-rent , what  is  the  issue  to  be  looked  for  ? Hangmen 
and  Catchpoles  may,  by  their  noose-gins  and  baited  fall-traps, 
keep  down  the  smaller  sort  of  vermin ; but  what,  except  per- 
haps some  such  Universal  Association,  can  protect  us  against 
whole  meat-devouring  and  man-devouring  hosts  of  Boa-con- 
strictors. If,  therefore,  the  more  sequestered  Thinker  have 
wondered,  in  his  privacy,  from  what  hand  that  perhaps  not  ill- 
written  Program  in  the  Public  J ournals,  with  its  high  Prize- 
Questions  and  so  liberal  Prizes , could  have  proceeded,  — let 
him  now  cease  such  wonder;  and,  with  undivided  faculty, 
betake  himself  to  the  Concurrenz  (Competition).” 

We  ask  : Has  this  same  “ perhaps  not  ill-written  Program ,” 
or  any  other  authentic  Transaction  of  that  Property-conserv- 
ing Society,  fallen  under  the  eye  of  the  British  Reader,  in 
any  J ournal  foreign  or  domestic  ? If  so,  what  are  those  Prize- 
Questions  ; what  are  the  terms  of  Competition,  and  when  and 
where  ? Ho  printed  Newspaper-leaf,  no  farther  light  of  any 
sort,  to  be  met  with  in  these  Paper-bags ! Or  is  the  whole 
business  one  other  of  those  whimsicalities  and  perverse  in- 
explicabilities, whereby  Herr  Teufelsdrockh,  meaning  much  or 
nothing,  is  pleased  so  often  to  play  fast-and-loose  with  us  ? 

Here,  indeed,  at  length,  must  the  Editor  give  utterance  to  a 
painful  suspicion,  which,  through  late  Chapters,  has  begun  to 
haunt  him  ; paralyzing  any  little  enthusiasm  that  might  still 
have  rendered  his  thorny  Biographical  task  a labor  of  love. 


Chap.  X. 


PAUSE. 


153 


It  is  a suspicion  grounded  perhaps  on  trifles,  yet  confirmed 
almost  into  certainty  by  the  more  and  more  discernible  humor- 
istico-satirical  tendency  of  Teufelsdrockh,  in  whom  underground 
humors  and  intricate  sardonic  rogueries,  wheel  within  wheel, 
defy  all  reckoning : a suspicion,  in  one  word,  that  these  Auto- 
biographical Documents  are  partly  a mystification  ! What 
if  many  a so-called  Fact  were  little  better  than  a Fiction ; if 
here  we  had  no  direct  Camera-obscura  Picture  of  the  Profes- 
sor’s History ; but  only  some  more  or  less  fantastic  Adumbra- 
tion, symbolically,  perhaps  significantly  enough,  shadowing 
forth  the  same  ! Our  theory  begins  to  be  that,  in  receivings 
literally  authentic  what  was  but  hieroglyphically  so,  Hofrath 
Heuschrecke,  whom  in  that  case  we  scruple  not  to  name  Hof- 
rath Nose-of-Wax,  was  made  a fool  of,  and  set  adrift  to  make 
fools  of  others.  Could  it  be  expected,  indeed,  that  a man  so 
known  for  impenetrable  reticence  as  Teufelsdrockh  would  all 
at  once  frankly  unlock  his  private  citadel  to  an  English  Editor 
and  a German  Hofrath ; and  not  rather  deceptively  wilock  both 
Editor  and  Hofrath  in  the  labyrinthic  tortuosities  and  covered- 
ways  of  said  citadel  (having  enticed  them  thither),  to  see,  in 
his  half-devilish  way,  how  the  fools  would  look  ? 

Of  one  fool,  however,  the  Herr  Professor  will  perhaps  find 
himself  short.  On  a small  slip,  formerly  thrown  aside  as 
blank,  the  ink  being  all  but  invisible,  we  lately  noticed,  and 
with  effort  decipher,  the  following : “ What  are  your  historical 
Facts  ; still  more  your  biographical  ? Wilt  thou  know  a Man, 
above  all  a Mankind,  by  stringing  together  bead-rolls  of  what 
thou  namest  Facts  ? The  Man  is  the  spirit  he  worked  in  ; not 
what  he  did,  but  what  he  became.  Facts  are  engraved  Hiero- 
grams,  for  which  the  fewest  have  the  key.  And  then  how 
your  Blockhead  (Dummkopf)  studies  not  their  Meaning ; but 
simply  whether  they  are  well  or  ill  cut,  what  he  calls  Moral 
or  Immoral ! Still  worse  is  it  with  your  Bungler  ( Pfuscher ) : 
such  I have  seen  reading  some  Kousseau,  with  pretences  of 
interpretation;  and  mistaking  the  ill-cut  Serpent-of-Eternitv 
for  a common  poisonous  reptile.”  Was  the  Professor  appre- 
hensive lest  an  Editor,  selected  as  the  present  boasts  himself, 
might  mistake  the  Teufelsdrockh  Serpent-of-Eternity  in  like 


154 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


manner  ? For  which,  reason,  it  was  to  be  altered,  not  without 
underhand  satire,  into  a plainer  Symbol  ? Or  is  this  merely 
one  of  his  half-sophisms,  half-truisms,  which  if  he  can  but  set 
on  the  back  of  a Figure,  he  cares  not  whither  it  gallop  ? We 
say  not  with  certainty ; and  indeed,  so  strange  is  the  Profes- 
sor, can  never  say.  If  our  suspicion  be  wholly  unfounded,  let 
his  own  questionable  ways,  not  our  necessary  circumspectness 
bear  the  blame. 

But  be  this  as  it  will,  the  somewhat  exasperated  and  indeed 
exhausted  Editor  determines  here  to  shut  these  Paper-bags  for 
the  present.  Let  it -suffice  that  we  know  of  Teufelsdrockh,  so 
far,  if  “ not  what  he  did,  yet  what  he  became : ” the  rather,  as 
his  character  has  now  taken  its  ultimate  bent,  and  no  new 
revolution,  of  importance,  is  to  be  looked  for.  The  imprisoned 
Chrysalis  is  now  a winged  Psyche  : and  such,  wheresoever  be 
its  flight,  it  will  continue.  To  trace  by  what  complex  gyra- 
tions (flights  or  involuntary  waftings)  through  the  mere  ex- 
ternal Life-element,  Teufelsdrockh  reaches  his  University 
Professorship,  and  the  Psyche  clothes  herself  in  civic  Titles, 
without  altering  her  now  fixed  nature,  — would  be  compara- 
tively an  unproductive  task,  were  we  even  unsuspicious  of  its 
being,  for  us  at  least,  a false  and  impossible  one.  His  out- 
ward Biography,  therefore,  which,  at  the  Blumine  Lover’ s- 
Leap,  we  saw  churned  utterly  into  spray-vapor,  may  hover  in 
that  condition,  for  aught  that  concerns  us  here.  Enough  that 
by  survey  of  certain  u pools  and  plashes,”  we  have  ascertained 
its  general  direction  *,  do  we  not  already  know  that,  by  one  way 
and  other,  it  has  long  since  rained  down  again  into  a stream  ; 
and  even  now,  at  Weissnichtwo,  flows  deep  and  still,  fraught 
with  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes , and  visible  to  whoso  will  cast 
eye  thereon  ? Over  much  invaluable  matter,  that  lies  scat- 
tered, like  jewels  among  quarry-rubbish,  in  those  Paper-cata- 
combs, we  may  have  occasion  to  glance  back,  and  somewhat 
will  demand  insertion  at  the  right  place : meanwhile  be  our 
tiresome  diggings  therein  suspended. 

If  now,  before  reopening  the  great  Clothes- Volume,  we  ask 
what  our  degree  of  progress,  during  these  Ten  Chapters,  has 
been,  towards  right  understanding  of  the  Clothes-Philosophy , 


Chap.  X. 


PAUSE. 


155 


let  not  our  discouragement  become  total.  To  speak  in  that 
old' figure  of  the  Hell-gate  Bridge  over  Chaos,  a few  flying 
pontoons  have  perhaps  been  added,  though  as  yet  they  drift 
straggling  on  the  Flood;  how  far  they  will  reach,  when  once 
the  chains  are  straightened  and  fastened,  can,  at  present,  only 
be  matter  of  conjecture. 

So  much  we  already  calculate  : Through  many  a little  loop- 
hole, we  have  had  glimpses  into  the  internal  world  of  Teufels- 
drockh;  his  strange  mystic,  almost  magic  Diagram  of  the 
Universe,  and  how  it  was  gradually  drawn,  is  not  henceforth 
altogether  dark  to  us.  Those  mysterious  ideas  on  Time,  which 
merit  consideration,  and  are  not  wholly  unintelligible  with 
such,  may  by  and  by  prove  significant.  Still  more  may  his 
somewhat  peculiar  view  of  Nature,  the  decisive  Oneness 
he  ascribes  to  Nature.  How  all  Nature  and  Life  are  but  one 
Garment , a “ Living  Garment,”  woven  and  ever  a-weaving  in 
the  u Loom  of  Time  ; ” is  not  here,  indeed,  the  outline  of  a 
whole  Clothes-Philo  sophy ; at  least  the  arena  it  is  to  work  in  ? 
Remark,  too,  that  the  Character  of  the  Man,  nowise  without 
meaning  in  such  a matter,  becomes  less  enigmatic : amid  so 
much  tumultuous  obscurity,  almost  like  diluted  madness,  do 
not  a certain  indomitable  Defiance  and  yet  a boundless  Rever- 
ence seem  to  loom  forth,  as  the  two  mountain-summits,  on 
whose  rock-strata  all  the  rest  were  based  and  built? 

Nay  further,  may  we  not  say  that  Teufelsdrockh’s  Biogra- 
phy, allowing  it  even,  as  suspected,  only  a hieroglyphical 
truth,  exhibits  a man,  as  it  were  preappointed  for  Clothes- 
Philosophy  ? To  look  through  the  Shows  of  things  into 
Things  themselves  he  is  led  and  compelled.  The  “Passivity  ” 
given  him  by  birth  is  fostered  by  all  turns  of  his  fortune. 
Everywhere  cast  out,  like  oil  out  of  water,  from  mingling  in 
any  Employment,  in  any  public  Communion,  he  has  no  portion 
but  Solitude,  and  a life  of  Meditation.  The  whole  energy  of 
his  existence  is  directed,  through  long  years,  on  one  task : that 
of  enduring  pain,  if  he  cannot  cure  it.  Thus  everywhere  do 
the  Shows  of  things  oppress  him,  withstand  him,  threaten  him 
with  fearfullest  destruction : only  by  victoriously  penetrating 
into  Things  themselves  can  he  find  peace  and  a stronghold 


156 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II. 


But  is  not  this  same  looking  through  the  Shows,  or  Vest- 
ures, into  the  Things,  even  the  first  preliminary  to  a Philoso- 
phy of  Clothes  ? Do  we  not,  in  all  this,  discern  some  beck- 
onings  towards  the  true  higher  purport  of  such  a Philosophy  ; 
and  what  shape  it  must  assume  with  such  a man,  in  such  an 
era  ? 

Perhaps  in  entering  on  Book  Third,  the  courteous  Reader 
is  not  utterly  without  guess  whither  he  is  bound : nor,  let  us 
hope,  for  all  the  fantastic  Dream-Grottos  through  which,  as 
is  our  lot  with  Teufelsdrockh,  he  must  wander,  will  there 
be  wanting  between  whiles  some  twinkling  of  a steady  Polar 
Star. 


BOOK  III. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

INCIDENT  IN  MODERN  HISTORY. 

As  a wonder 'loving  and  wonder-seeking  man,  Teufelsdrockh, 
from  an  early  part  of  this  Clothe  s-Volume,  has  more  and  more 
exhibited  himself.  Striking  it  was,  amid  all  his  perverse 
cloudiness,  with  what  force  of  vision  and  of  heart  he  pierced 
into  the  mystery  of  the  World ; recognizing  in  the  highest 
sensible  phenomena,  so  far  as  Sense  went,  only  fresh  or  faded 
Raiment;  yet  ever,  under  this,  a celestial  Essence  thereby 
rendered  visible : and  while,  on  the  one  hand,  he  trod  the  old 
rags  of  Matter,  with  their  tinsels,  into  the  mire,  he  on  the  other 
everywhere  exalted  Spirit  above  all  earthly  principalities  and 
powers,  and  worshipped  it,  though  under  the  meanest  shapes, 
with  a true  Platonic  mysticism.  What  the  man  ultimately 
purposed  by  thus  casting  his  Greek-fire  into  the  general  Ward- 
robe of  the  Universe  ; what  such,  more  or  less  complete,  rend- 
ing and  burning  of  Garments  throughout  the  whole  compass 
of  Civilized  Life  and  Speculation,  should  lead  to ; the  rather 
as  he  was  no  Adamite,  in  any  sense,  and  could  not,  like  Rous- 
seau, recommend  either  bodily  or  intellectual  Nudity,  and  a 
return  to  the  savage  state  : all  this  our  readers  are  now  bent 
to  discover ; this  is,  in  fact,  properly  the  gist  and  purport  of 
Professor  Teufelsdrockh’s  Philosophy  of  Clothes. 

Be  it  remembered,  however,  that  such  purport  is  here  not 
so  much  evolved,  as  detected  to  lie  ready  for  evolving.  We 
are  to  guide  our  British  Friends  into  the  new  Gold-country, 
and  show  them  the  mines  ; nowise  to  dig  out  and  exhaust 


158 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


its  wealth,  which  indeed  remains  for  all  time  inexhaustible. 
Once  there,  let  each  dig  for  his  own  behoof,  and  enrich  him- 
self. 

Neither,  in  so  capricious  inexpressible  a Work  as  this  of  the 
Professor’s,  can  our  course  now  more  than  formerly  be  straight- 
forward, step  by  step,  but  at  best  leap  by  leap.  Significant 
Indications  stand  out  here  and  there;  which  for  the  critical 
eye,  that  looks  bo’th  widely  and  narrowly,  shape  themselves 
into  some  ground-scheme  of  a Whole : to  select  these  with 
judgment,  so  that  a leap  from  one  to  the  other  be  possible, 
and  (in  our  old  figure)  by  chaining  them  together,  a passable 
Bridge  be  effected : this,  as  heretofore,  continues  our  only 
method.  Among  such  light-spots,  the  following,  floating  in 
much  wild  matter  about  Perfectibility , has  seemed  worth 
clutching  at : — 

“ Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  incident  in  Modern  History,” 
says  Teufelsdrockh,  “is  not  the  Diet  of  Worms,  still  less  the 
Battle  of  Austerlitz,  Waterloo,  Peterloo,  or  any  other  Battle ; 
but  an  incident  passed  carelessly  over  by  most  Historians,  and 
treated  with  some  degree  of  ridicule  by  others  : namely,  George 
Fox’s  making  to  himself  a suit  of  Leather.  This  man,  the  first 
of  the  Quakers,  and  by  trade  a Shoemaker,  was  one  of  those, 
to  whom,  under  ruder  or  purer  form,  the  Divine  Idea  of  the 
Universe  is  pleased  to  manifest  itself  ; and,  across  all  the 
hulls  of  Ignorance  and  earthly  Degradation,  shine  through,  in 
unspeakable  Awfulness,  unspeakable  Beauty,  on  their  souls : 
who  therefore  are  rightly  accounted  Prophets,  God-possessed ; 
or  even  Gods,  as  in  some  periods  it  has  chanced.  Sitting  in 
his  stall ; working  on  tanned  hides,  amid  pincers,  paste-horns, 
rosin,  swine-bristles,  and  a nameless  flood  of  rubbish,  this 
youth  had,  nevertheless,  a Living  Spirit  belonging  to  him ; 
also  an  antique  Inspired  Volume,  through  which,  as  through  a 
window,  it  could  look  upwards,  and  discern  its  celestial  Home. 
The  task  of  a daily  pair  of  shoes,  coupled  even  with  some  pros- 
pect of  victuals,  and  an  honorable  Mastership  in  Cordwainery, 
and  perhaps  the  post  of  Thirdborough  in  his  hundred,  as 
the  crown  of  long  faithful  sewing,  — was  nowise  satisfaction 
enough  to  such  a mind : but  ever  amid  the  boring  and  ham- 


Chap.  I, 


INCIDENT  IN  MODERN  HISTORY. 


159 


mering  came  tones  from  that  far  country,  came  Splendors  and 
Terrors ; for  this  poor  Cordwainer,  as  we  said,  was  a Man ; 
and  the  Temple  of  Immensity,  wherein  as  Man  he  had  been 
sent  to  minister,  was  full  of  holy  mystery  to  him. 

“The  Clergy  of  the  neighborhood,  the  ordained  Watchers 
and  Interpreters  of  that  same  holy  mystery,  listened  with  un- 
affected tedium  to  his  consultations,  and  advised  him,  as  the 
solution  of  such  doubts,  to  ‘ drink  beer,  and  dance  with  the 
girls.’  Blind  leaders  of  the  blind ! For  what  end  were  their 
tithes  levied  and  eaten ; for  what  were  their  shovel-hats 
scooped  out,  and  their  surplices  and  cassock -aprons  girt  on; 
and  such  a church-repairing,  and  chaffering,  and  organing,  and 
other  racketing,  held  over  that  spot  of  God’s  Earth,  — if  Man 
were  but  a Patent  Digester,  and  the  Belly  with  its  adjuncts 
the  grand  Reality  ? Fox  turned  from  them,  with  tears  and  a 
sacred  scorn,  back  to  his  Leather-parings  and  his  Bible.  Moun- 
tains of  encumbrance,  higher  than  Mtna,  had  been  heaped  over 
that  Spirit : but  it  was  a Spirit,  and  would  not  lie  buried  there. 
Through  long  days  and  nights  of  silent  agony,  it  struggled  and 
wrestled,  with  a man’s  force,  to  be  free  : how  its  prison-moun- 
tains heaved  and  swayed  tumultuously,  as  the  giant  spirit  shook 
them  to  this  hand  and  that,  and  emerged  into  the  light  of 
Heaven ! That  Leicester  shoe-shop,  had  men  known  it,  was  a 
holier  place  than  any  Vatican  or  Loretto-shrine. — c So  bandaged, 
and  hampered,  and  hemmed  in,’  groaned  he,  ‘with  thousand 
requisitions,  obligations,  straps,  tatters,  and  tagrags,  I can 
neither  see  nor  move : not  my  own  am  I,  but  the  World’s ; 
and  Time  flies  fast,  and  Heaven  is  high,  and  Hell  is  deep : 
Man ! bethink  thee,  if  thou  hast  power  of  Thought ! Why 
not ; what  binds  me  here  ? Want,  want ! — Ha,  of  what  ? 
Will  all  the  shoe-wages  under  the  Moon  ferry  me  across  into 
that  far  Land  of  Light?  Only  Meditation  can,  and  devout 
Prayer  to  God.  I will  to  the  woods : the  hollow  of  a tree  will 
lodge  me,  wild  berries  feed  me ; and  for  Clothes,  cannot  I 
stitch  myself  one  perennial  suit  of  Leather  ! ’ 

“Historical  Oil-painting,”  continues  Teufelsdrockh,  “is  one 
of  the  Arts  I never  practised ; therefore  shall  I not  decide 
whether  this  subject  were  easy  of  execution  on  the  canvas. 


160 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


Vet  often  lias  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  such  first  outflashing 
of  man’s  Freewill,  to  lighten,  more  and  more  into  Day,  the 
Chaotic  Night  that  threatened  to  engulf  him  in  its  hindrances 
and  its  horrors,  were  properly  the  only  grandeur  there  is  in 
History.  Let  some  living  Angelo  or  Rosa,  with  seeing  eye 
and  understanding  heart,  picture  George  Fox  on  that  morning, 
when  he  spreads  out  his  cutting-board  for  the  last  time,  and 
cuts  cowhides  by  unwonted  patterns,  and  stitches  them  to~ 
gether  into  one  continuous  all-including  Case,  the  farewell  ser- 
vice of  his  awl ! Stitch  away,  thou  noble  Fox : every  prick  of 
that  little  instrument  is  pricking  into  the  heart  of  Slavery,  and 
World-worship,  and  the  Mammon-god.  Thy  elbows  jerk,  as  in 
strong  swimmer-strokes,  and  every  stroke  is  bearing  thee  across 
the  Prison-ditch,  within  which  Vanity  holds  her  Workhouse 
and  Ragfair,  into  lands  of  true  Liberty  ; were  the  work  done, 
there  is  in  broad  Europe  one  Free  Man,  and  thou  art  he  ! 

“ Thus  from  the  lowest  depth  there  is  a path  to  the  loftiest 
height;  and  for  the  Poor  also  a Gospel  has  been  published. 
Surely  if,  as  D’Alembert  asserts,  my  illustrious  namesake, 
Diogenes,  was  the  greatest  man  of  Antiquity,  only  that  he 
wanted  Decency,  then  by  stronger  reason  is  George  Fox  the 
greatest  of  the  Moderns,  and  greater  than  Diogenes  himself : 
for  he  too  stands  on  the  adamantine  basis  of  his  Manhood, 
casting  aside  all  props  and  shoars ; yet  not,  in  half-savage 
Pride,  undervaluing  the  Earth ; valuing  it  rather,  as  a place 
to  yield  him  warmth  and  food,  he  looks  Heavenward  from  his 
Earth,  and  dwells  in  an  element  of  Mercy  and  Worship,  with 
a still  Strength,  such  as  the  Cynic’s  Tub  did  nowise  witness. 
Great,  truly,  was  that  Tub ; a temple  from  which  man’s  dig- 
nity and  divinity  was  scornfully  preached  abroad : but  greater 
is  the  Leather  Hull,  for  the  same  sermon  was  preached  there, 
and  not  in  Scorn  but  in  Love.” 

George  Fox’s  “ perennial  suit,”  with  all  that  it  held,  has 
been  worn  quite  into  ashes  for  nigh  two  centuries : why,  in  a 
discussion  on  the  Perfectibility  of  Society , reproduce  it  now  ? 
Not  out  of  blind  sectarian  partisanship : Teufelsdrockh  him- 
self is  no  Quaker ; with  all  his  pacific  tendencies,  did  not  we 


Chap.  I. 


INCIDENT  IN  MODERN  HISTORY. 


161 


see  him,  in  that  scene  at  the  North  Cape,  with  the  Archangel 
Smuggler,  exhibit  fire-arms  ? 

For  us,  aware  of  his  deep  Sansculottism,  there  is  more  meant 
in  this  passage  than  meets  the  ear.  At  the  same  time,  who  can 
avoid  smiling  at  the  earnestness  and  Boeotian  simplicity  (if 
indeed  there  be  not  an  underhand  satire  in  it),  with  which  that 
“ Incident  ” is  here  brought  forward ; and,  in  the  Professor’s 
ambiguous  way,  as  clearly  perhaps  as  he  durst  in  Weissnicht- 
wo,  recommended  to  imitation  ! Does  Teufelsdrockh  antici- 
pate that,  in  this  age  of  refinement,  any  considerable  class  of 
the  community,  by  way  of  testifying  against  the  “ Mammon- 
god,”  and  escaping  from  what  he  calls  “ Vanity’s  Workhouse 
and  Ragfair,”  where  doubtless  some  of  them  are  toiled  and 
whipped  and  hoodwinked  sufficiently, — will  sheathe  them- 
selves in  close-fitting  cases  of  Leather  ? The  idea  is  ridiculous 
in  the  extreme.  Will  Majesty  lay  aside  its  robes  of  state,  and 
Beauty  its  frills  and  train-gowns,  for  a second  skin  of  tanned 
hide  ? By  which  change  Huddersfield  and  Manchester,  and 
Coventry  and  Paisley,  and  the  Fancy-Bazaar,  were  reduced  to 
hungry  solitudes  ; and  only  Day  and  Martin  could  profit.  For 
neither  would  Teufelsdrockh’s  mad  daydream,  here  as  we  pre- 
sume covertly  intended,  of  levelling  Society  ( levelling  it  indeed 
with  a vengeance,  into  one  huge  drowned  marsh  !),  and  so  at- 
taining the  political  effects  of  Nudity  without  its  frigorific  or 
other  consequences,  — be  thereby  realized.  Would  not  the  rich 
man  purchase  a waterproof  suit  of  Russia  Leather;  and  the 
high-born  Belle  step  forth  in  red  or  azure  morocco,  lined  with 
shamoy  : the  black  cowhide  being  left  to  the  Drudges  and 
Gibeonites  of  the  world ; and  so  all  the  old  Distinctions  be 
re-established  ? 

Or  has  the  Professor  his  own  deeper  intention ; and  laughs 
in  his  sleeve  at  our  strictures  and  glosses,  which  indeed  are 
but  a part  thereof  ? 


VOL.  i. 


11 


162 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CHURCH-CLOTHES. 

Hot  less  questionable  is  Ms  Chapter  on  Church-Clothes , 
which  has  the  farther  distinction  of  being  the  shortest  in  the 
Volume.  We  here  translate  it  entire:  — 

“By  Church-Clothes,  it  need  not  be  premised  that  I mean 
infinitely  more  than  Cassocks  and  Surplices ; and  do  not  at  all 
mean  the  mere  haberdasher  Sunday  Clothes  that  men  go  to 
Church  in.  Ear  from  it ! Church-Clothes  are,  in  our  vocabu- 
lary, the  Eorms,  the  Vestures , under  which  men  have  at  various 
periods  embodied  and  represented  for  themselves  the  Religious 
Principle  ; that  is  to  say,  invested  the  Divine  Idea  of  the 
World  with  a sensible  and  practically  active  Body,  so  that  it 
might  dwell  among  them  as  a living  and  life-giving  Word. 

“ These  are  unspeakably  the  most  important  of  all  the  vest- 
ures and  garnitures  of  Human  Existence.  They  are  first  spun 
and  woven,  I may  say,  by  that  wonder  of  wonders,  Society  ; 
for  it  is  still  only  when  ‘ two  or  three  are  gathered  together,’ 
that  Religion,  spiritually  existent,  and  indeed  indestructible, 
however  latent,  in  each,  first  outwardly  manifests  itself  (as 
with  ‘ cloven  tongues  of  fire  ’),  and  seeks  to  be  embodied  in  a 
visible  Communion  and  Church  Militant.  Mystical,  more  than 
magical,  is  that  Communing  of  Soul  with  Soul,  both  looking 
heavenward : here  properly  Soul  first  speaks  with  Soul ; for 
only  in  looking  heavenward,  take  it  in  what  sense  you  may, 
not  in  looking  earthward,  does  what  we  can  call  Union,  mutual 
Love,  Society,  begin  to  be  possible.  How  true  is  that  of  Ho- 
valis  : ‘It  is  certain,  my  Belief  gains  quite  infinitely  the  mo- 
ment I can  convince  another  mind  thereof 7 ! Gaze  thou  in  the 
face  of  thy  Brother,  in  those  eyes  where  plays  the  lambent  fire 
of  Kindness,  or  in  those  where  rages  the  lurid  conflagration  of 
Anger ; feel  how  thy  own  so  quiet  Soul  is  straightway  involun- 


Chap.  II. 


CHURCH-CLOTHES. 


163 


tarily  kindled  with  the  like,  and  ye  blaze  and  reverberate  on 
each  other,  till  it  is  all  one  limitless  confluent  flame  (of  em- 
bracing Love,  or  of  deadly-grappling  Hate)  ; and  then  say  what 
miraculous  virtue  goes  out  of  man  into  man.  But  if  so,  through 
all  the  thick-plied  hulls  of  our  Earthly  Life ; how  much  more 
when  it  is  of  the  Divine  Life  we  speak,  and  inmost  Me  is,  as 
it  were,  brought  into  contact  with  inmost  Me  ! 

“ Thus  was  it  that  I said,  the  Church-Clothes  are  first  spun 
and  woven  by  Society ; outward  Religion  originates  by  Society, 
Society  becomes  possible  by  Religion.  Nay,  perhaps,  every 
conceivable  Society,  past  and  present,  may  well  be  figured  as 
properly  and  wholly  a Church,  in  one  or  other  of  these  three 
predicaments  : an  audibly  preaching  and  prophesying  Church, 
which  is  the  best ; second,  a Church  that  struggles  to  preach 
and  prophesy,  but  cannot  as  yet,  till  its  Pentecost  come ; and 
third  and  worst,  a Church  gone  dumb  with  old  age,  or  which 
only  mumbles  delirium  prior  to  dissolution.  Whoso  fancies 
that  by  Church  is  here  meant  Chapter-houses  and  Cathedrals, 
or  by  preaching  and  prophesying,  mere  speech  and  chanting, 
let  him/’  says  the  oracular  Professor,  “ read  on,  light  of  heart 
( getrosten  Muthes ). 

“ But  with  regard  to  your  Church  proper,  and  the  Church- 
Clothes  specially  recognized  as  Church-Clothes,  I remark,  fear- 
lessly enough,  that  without  such  Vestures  and  sacred  Tissues 
Society  has  not  existed,  and  will  not  exist.  For  if  Government 
is,  so  to  speak,  the  outward  Skin  of  the  Body  Politic,  holding 
the  whole  together  and  protecting  it ; and  all  your  Craft-Guilds, 
and  Associations  for  Industry,  of  hand  or  of  head,  are  the 
Fleshly  Clothes,  the  muscular  and  osseous  Tissues  (lying  under 
such  Skin),  whereby  Society  stands  and  works  ; — then  is  Re- 
ligion the  inmost  Pericardial  and  Nervous  Tissue,  which  minis- 
ters Life  and  warm  Circulation  to  the  whole.  Without  which 
Pericardial  Tissue  the  Bones  and  Muscles  (of  Industry)  were 
inert,  or  animated  only  by  a Galvanic  vitality  ; the  Skin  would 
become  a shrivelled  pelt,  or  fast-rotting  rawhide ; and  Society 
itself  a dead  carcass,  — deserving  to  be  buried.  Men  were  no 
longer  Social,  but  Gregarious  ; which  latter  state  also  could  not 
continue,  but  must  gradually  issue  in  universal  selfish  discord, 


164 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


hatred,  savage  isolation,  and  dispersion ; — whereby,  as  we 
might  continue  to  say,  the  very  dust  and  dead  body  of  Society 
would  have  evaporated  and  become  abolished.  Such,  and  so 
all-important,  all-sustaining,  are  the  Church-Clothes  to  civilized 
or  even  to  rational  men. 

“ Meanwhile,  in  our  era  of  the  World,  those  same  Church- 
Clothes  have  gone  sorrowfully  out-at-elbows ; nay,  far  worse, 
many  of  them  have  become  mere  hollow  Shapes,  or  Masks, 
under  which  no  living  Figure  or  Spirit  any  longer  dwells ; 
but  only  spiders  and  unclean  beetles,  in  horrid  accumulation, 
drive  their  trade ; and  the  mask  still  glares  on  you  with  its 
glass  eyes,  in  ghastly  affectation  of  Life,  — some  generation- 
and-half  after  Religion  has  quite  withdrawn  from  it,  and  in 
unnoticed  nooks  is  "weaving  for  herself  new  Vestures,  where- 
with to  reappear,  and  bless  us,  or  our  sons  or  grandsons.  As 
a Priest,  or  Interpreter  of  the  Holy,  is  the  noblest  and  highest 
of  all  men,  so  is  a Sham-priest  (Schein-pviester)  the  falsest  and 
basest ; neither  is  it  doubtful  that  his  Canonicals,  were  they 
Popes’  Tiaras,  will  one  day  be  torn  from  him,  to  make  band- 
ages for  the  wounds  of  mankind;  or  even  to  burn  into  tin- 
der, for  general  scientific  or  culinary  purposes. 

“ All  which,  as  out  of  place  here,  falls  to  be  handled  in  my 
Second  Volume,  On  the  Paling enesia,  or  Newbirth  of  Society  ; 
which  volume,  as  treating  practically  of  the  Wear,  Destruc- 
tion, and  Retexture  of  Spiritual  Tissues,  or  Garments,  forms, 
properly  speaking,  the  Transcendental  or  ultimate  Portion 
o£  this  my  work  on  Clothes , and  is  already  in  a state  of  for- 
wardness.” 

And  herewith,  no  farther  exposition,  note,  or  commentary 
being  added,  does  Teufelsdrockh,  and  must  his  Editor  now, 
terminate  the  singular  chapter  on  Church-Clothes  ! 


Chap.  III. 


SYMBOLS. 


165 


CHAPTER  III. 

SYMBOLS. 

Probably  it  will  elucidate  the  drift  of  these  foregoing  ob- 
scure utterances,  if  we  here  insert  somewhat  of  our  Profes- 
sor’s speculations  on  Symbols.  To  state  his  whole  doctrine, 
indeed,  were  beyond  our  compass : nowhere  is  he  more  mys- 
terious, impalpable,  than  in  this  of  “ Fantasy  being  the  organ 
of  the  Godlike ; ” and  how  “ Man  thereby,  though  based,  to  all 
seeming,  on  the  small  Visible,  does  nevertheless  extend  down 
into  the  infinite  deeps  of  the  Invisible,  of  which  Invisible, 
indeed,  his  Life  is  properly  the  bodying  forth.”  Let  us,  omit- 
ting these  high  transcendental  aspects  of  the  matter,  study  to 
glean  (whether  from  the  Paper-bags  or  the  Printed  Volume) 
what  little  seems  logical  and  practical,  and  cunningly  arrange 
it  into  such  degree  of  coherence  as  it  will  assume.  By  way 
of  proem,  take  the  • following  not  injudicious  remarks  : — 

“The  benignant  efficacies  of  Concealment,”  cries  our  Pro- 
fessor, “ who  shall  speak  or  sing  ? Silence  and  Secrecy  ! 
Altars  might  still  be  raised  to  them  (were  this  an  altar-build- 
ing time)  for  universal  worship.  Silence  is  the  element  in 
which  great  things  fashion  themselves  together ; that  at  length 
they  may  emerge,  full-formed  and  majestic,  into  the  daylight 
of  Life,  which  they  are  thenceforth  to  rule.  Not  William  the 
Silent  only,  but  all  the  considerable  men  I have  known,  and 
the  most  undiplomatic  and  unstrategic  of  these,  forbore  to 
babble  of  what  they  were  creating  and  projecting.  Nay,  in 
thy  own  mean  perplexities,  do  thou  thyself  but  hold  tliy  tongue 
for  one  day : on  the  morrow,  how  much  clearer  are  thy  pur- 
poses and  duties;  what  wreck  and  rubbish  have  those  mute 
workmen  within  thee  swept  away,  when  intrusive  noises  were 
shut  out ! Speech  is  too  often  not,  as  the  Frenchman  defined 
it,  the  art  of  concealing  Thought ; but  of  quite  stifling  and 


166 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


suspending  Thought,  so  that  there  is  none  to  conceal.  Speech 
too  is  great,  but  not  the  greatest.  As  the  Swiss  Inscription 
says:  Sprechen  ist  silbern,  Schw eigen  ist  golden  (Speech  is 
silvern,  Silence  is  golden) ; or  as  I might  rather  express  it : 
Speech  is  of  Time,  Silence  is  of  Eternity. 

“ Bees  will  not  work  except  in  darkness ; Thought  will  not 
work  except  in  Silence : neither  will  Virtue  work  except  in 
Secrecy.  Let  not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand 
doeth ! Neither  shalt  thou  prate  even  to  thy  own  heart  of 
4 those  secrets  known  to  all.’  Is  not  Shame  ( Sehaam ) the 
soil  of  all  Virtue,  of  all  good  manners  and  good  morals  ? Like 
other  plants,  Virtue  will  not  grow  unless  its  root  be  hidden, 
buried  from  the  eye  of  the  sun.  Let  the  sun  shine  on  it,  nay 
do  but  look  at  it  privily  thyself,  the  root  withers,  and  no 
flower  will  glad  thee.  0 my  Friends,  when  we  view  the  fair 
clustering  flowers  that  overwreathe,  for  example,  the  Mar- 
riage-bower, and  encircle  man’s  life  with  the  fragrance  and 
hues  of  Heaven,  what  hand  will  not  smite  the  foul  plunderer 
that  grubs  them  up  by  the  roots,  and,  with  grinning,  grunting 
satisfaction,  shows  us  the  dung  they  flourish  in  ! Men  speak 
much  of  the  Printing  Press  with  its  Newspapers  : du  Himmel! 
what  are  these  to  Clothes  and  the  Tailor’s  Goose  ? 

“ Of  kin  to  the  so  incalculable  influences  of  Concealment, 
and  connected  with  still  greater  things,  is  the  wondrous 
agency  of  Symbols.  In  a Symbol  there  is  concealment  and  yet 
revelation;  here  therefore,  by  Silence  and  by  Speech  acting 
together,  comes  a double  significance.  And  if  both  the  Speech 
be  itself  high,  and  the  Silence  fit  and  noble,  how  expressive 
will  their  union  be  ! Thus  in  many  a painted  Device,  or  sim- 
ple Seal-emblem,  the  commonest  Truth  stands  out  to  us  pro- 
claimed with  quite  new  emphasis. 

“For  it  is  here  that  Fantasy  with  her  mystic  wonderland 
plays  into  the  small  prose  domain  of  Sense,  and  becomes  in- 
corporated therewith.  In  the  Symbol  proper,  what  we  can  call 
a Symbol,  there  is  ever,  more  or  less  distinctly  and  directly, 
some  embodiment  and  revelation  of  the  Infinite ; the  Infinite 
is  made  to  blend  itself  with  the  Finite,  to  stand  visible,  and 
as  it  were,  attainable  there.  By  Symbols,  accordingly,  is  man 


Chap  III. 


SYMBOLS. 


167 


guided  and  commanded,  made  happy,  made  wretched.  He 
everywhere  finds  himself  encompassed  with  Symbols?,  recog- 
nized as  such  or  not  recognized : the  Universe  is  but  one  vast 
Symbol  of  God ; nay  if  thou  wilt  have  it,  what  is  man  himself 
but  a Symbol  of  God ; is  not  all  that  he  does  symbolical ; a 
revelation  to  Sense  of  the  mystic  god-given  force  that  is  in  him  ; 
a ‘ Gospel  of  Freedom/  which  he,  the  ‘Messias  of  Nature/ 
preaches,  as  he  can,  by  act  and  word  ? Not  a Hut  he  builds 
but  is  the  visible  embodiment  of  a Thought ; but  bears  visible 
record  of  invisible  things  ; but  is,  in  the  transcendental  sense, 
symbolical  as  well  as  real.” 

“Man,”  says  the  Professor  elsewhere,  in  quite  antipodal 
contrast  with  these  high-soaring  delineations,  which  we  have 
here  cut  short  on  the  verge  of  the  inane,  “ Man  is  by  birth 
somewhat  of  an  owl.  Perhaps,  too,  of  all  the  owleries  that 
ever  possessed  him,  the  most  owlish,  if  we  consider  it,  is  that 
of  your  actually  existing  Motive-Millwrights.  Fantastic  tricks 
enough  man  has  played,  in  his  time ; has  fancied  himself  to  be 
most  things,  down  even  to  an  animated  heap  of  Glass:  but 
to  fancy  himself  a dead  Iron-Balance  for  weighing  Pains  and 
Pleasures  on,  was  reserved  for  this  his  latter  era.  There 
stands  he,  his  Universe  one  huge  Manger,  filled  with  hay  and 
thistles  to  be  weighed  against  each  other;  and  looks  long- 
eared enough.  Alas,  poor  devil ! spectres  are  appointed  to 
haunt  him  : one  age  he  is  hag-ridden,  bewitched ; the  next, 
priest-ridden,  befooled ; in  all  ages,  bedevilled.  And  now  the 
Genius  of  Mechanism  smothers  him  worse  than  any  Night- 
mare did ; till  the  Soul  is  nigh  choked  out  of  him,  and  only 
a kind  of  Digestive,  Mechanic  life  remains.  In  Earth  and  in 
Heaven  he  can  see  nothing  but  Mechanism ; has  fear  for  noth- 
ing else,  hope  in  nothing  else : the  world  would  indeed  grind 
him  to  pieces  ; but  cannot  he  fathom  the  Doctrine  of  Motives, 
and  cunningly  compute  these,  and  mechanize  them  to  grind 
the  other  way  ? 

“Were  he  not,  as  has  been  said,  purblinded  by  enchant- 
ment, you  had  but  to  bid  him  open  his  eyes  and  look.  In 
which  country,  in  which  time,  was  it  hitherto  that  man’s  his- 
tory, or  the  history  of  any  man,  went  on  by  calculated  or  cal- 


168 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


culable  ‘ Motives  ’ ? What  make  ye  of  your  Christianities,  and 
Chivalries,  and  Reformations,  and  Marseillaise  Hymns,  and 
Reigns  of  Terror  ? Ray,  has  not  perhaps  the  Motive-grinder 
himself  been  in  Love  ? Hid  he  never  stand  so  much  as  a 
contested  Election  ? Leave  him  to  Time,  and  the  medicating 
virtue  of  Nature.” 

“ Yes,  Friends,”  elsewhere  observes  the  Professor,  “not  our 
Logical,  Mensurative  faculty,  but  our  Imaginative  one  is  King 
over  us  ; I might  say,  Priest  and  Prophet  to  lead  us  heaven- 
ward; or  Magician  and  Wizard  to  lead  us  hellward.  Nay, 
even  for  the  basest  Sensualist,  what  is  Sense  but  the  imple- 
ment of  Fantasy ; the  vessel  it  drinks  out  of  ? Ever  in  the 
dullest  existence  there  is  a sheen  either  of  Inspiration  or  of 
Madness  (thou  partly  hast  it  in  thy  choice,  which  of  the  two), 
that  gleams  in  from  the  circumambient  Eternity,  and  colors 
with  its  own  hues  our  little  islet  of  Time.  The  Understand- 
ing is  indeed  thy  window,  too  clear  thou  canst  not  make  it ; 
but  Fantasy  is  thy  eye,  with  its  color-giving  retina,  healthy  or 
diseased.  Have  not  I myself  known  five  hundred  living  sol- 
diers sabred  into  crows’-meat  for  a piece  of  glazed  cotton, 
which  they  called  their  Flag ; which,  had  you  sold  it  at  any 
market-cross,  would  not  have  brought  above  three  groschen  ? 
Hid  not  the  whole  Hungarian  Nation  rise,  like  some  tumul- 
tuous moon-stirred  Atlantic,  when  Kaiser  Joseph  pocketed  their 
Iron  Crown  ; an  implement,  as  was  sagaciously  observed,  in 
size  and  commercial  value  little  differing  from  a horse-shoe  ? 
It  is  in  and  through  Symbols  that  man,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, lives,  works,  and  has  his  being : those  ages,  more- 
over, are  accounted  ihe  noblest  which  can  the  best  recognize 
symbolical  worth,  and  prize  it  the  highest.  For  is  not  a Sym- 
bol ever,  to  him  who  has  eyes  for  it,  some  dimmer  or  clearer 
revelation  of  the  Godlike  ? 

“ Of  Symbols,  however,  I remark  farther,  that  they  have 
both  an  extrinsic  and  intrinsic  value  ; oftenest  the  former 
only.  What,  for  instance,  was  in  that  clouted  Shoe,  which 
the  Peasants  bore  aloft  with  them  as  ensign  in  their  Bauern- 
krieg  (Peasants’  War)  ? Or  in  the  Wallet-and-staff  round 
which  the  Netherland  Gueux , glorying  in  that  nickname  of 


Chap.  III. 


SYMBOLS. 


169 


Beggars,  heroically  rallied  and  prevailed,  though  against  King 
Philip  himself  ? Intrinsic  significance  these  had  none  : only 
extrinsic  j as  the  accidental  Standards  of  multitudes  more  or 
less  sacredly  uniting  together  ; in  which  union  itself,  as  above 
noted,  there  is  ever  something  mystical  and  borrowing  of  the 
Godlike.  Under  a like  category,  too,  stand,  or  stood,  the  stu- 
pidest heraldic  Ooats-of-arms ; military  Banners  everywhere  ; 
and  generally  all  national  or  other  sectarian  Costumes  and 
Customs : they  have  no  intrinsic,  necessary  divineness,  or 
even  worth ; but  have  acquired  an  extrinsic  one.  Neverthe- 
less through  all  these  there  glimmers  something  of  a Divine 
Idea ; as  through  military  Banners  themselves,  the  Divine 
Idea  of  Duty,  of  heroic  Daring ; in  some  instances  of  Free- 
dom, of  Bight.  Nay  the  highest  ensign  that  men  ever  met 
and  embraced  under,  the  Cross  itself,  had  no  meaning  save  an 
accidental  extrinsic  one. 

“ Another  matter  it  is,  however,  when  your  Symbol  has 
intrinsic  meaning,  and  is  of  itself  fit  that  men  should  unite 
round  it.  ■ Let  but  the  Godlike  manifest  itself  to  Sense ; let 
but  Eternity  look,  more  or  less  visibly,  through  the  Time- 
Figure  ( Zeitbild ) ! Then  is  it  fit  that  men  unite  there  ; and 
worship  together  before  such  Symbol ; and  so  from  day  to  day, 
and  from  age  to  age,  superadd  to  it  new  divineness. 

“ Of  this  latter  sort  are  all  true  Works  of  Art : in  them  (if 
thou  know  a Work  of  Art  from  a Daub  of  Artifice)  wilt  thou 
discern  Eternity  looking  through  Time  ; the  Godlike  rendered 
visible.  Here  too  may  an  extrinsic  value  gradually  superadd 
itself : thus  certain  Iliads , and  the  like,  have,  in  three  thousand 
years,  attained  quite  new  significance.  But  nobler  than  all  in 
this  kind  are  the  Lives  of  heroic  god-inspired  Men ; for  what 
other  Work  of  Art  is  so  divine  ? In  Death  too,  in  the  Death 
of  the  Just,  as  the  last  perfection  of  a Work  of  Art,  may  we 
not  discern  symbolic  meaning  ? In  that  divinely  transfigured 
Sleep,  as  of  Victory,  resting  over  the  beloved  face  which  now 
knows  thee  no  more,  read  (if  thou  canst  for  tears)  the  con- 
fluence of  Time  with  Eternity,  and  some  gleam  of  the  latter 
peering  through. 

“ Highest  of  all  Symbols  are  those  wherein  the  Artist  or 


170 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


Poet  has  risen  into  Prophet,  and  all  men  can  recognize  a 
present  God,  and  worship  the  same  : I mean  religions  Symbols. 
Various  enough  have  been  such  religious  Symbols,  what  we 
call  Religions;  as  men  stood  in  this  stage  of  culture  or  the 
other,  and  could  worse  or  better  body  forth  the  Godlike : some 
Symbols  with  a transient  intrinsic  worth ; many  with  only  an 
extrinsic.  If  thou  ask  to  what  height  man  has  carried  it  in 
this  manner,  look  on  our  divinest  Symbol:  on  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth, and  his  Life,  and  his  Biography,  and  what  followed  there- 
from. Higher  has  the  human  Thought  not  yet  reached : this 
is  Christianity  and  Christendom ; a Symbol  of  quite  perennial, 
infinite  character ; whose  significance  will  ever  demand  to  be 
anew  inquired  into,  and  anew  made  manifest. 

“ But,  on  the  whole,  as  Time  adds  much  to  the  sacredness 
of  Symbols,  so  likewise  in  his  progress  he  at  length  defaces, 
or  even  desecrates  them ; and  Symbols,  like  all  terrestrial  Gar- 
ments, wax  old.  Homer’s  Epos  has  not  ceased  to  be  true  5 yet 
it  is  no  longer  our  Epos,  but  shines  in  the  distance,  if  clearer 
and  clearer,  yet  also  smaller  and  smaller,  like  a receding  Star. 
It  needs  a scientific  telescope,  it  needs  to  be  reinterpreted  and 
artificially  brought  near  us,  before  we  can  so  much  as  know 
that  it  was  a Sun.  So  likewise  a day  comes  when  the  Runic 
Thor,  with  his  Eddas,  must  withdraw  into  dimness ; and  many 
an  African  Mumbo- Jumbo  and  Indian  Pawaw  be  utterly  abol- 
ished. Eor  all  things,  even  Celestial  Luminaries,  much  more 
atmospheric  meteors,  have  their  rise,  their  culmination,  their 
decline. 

“ Small  is  this  which  thou  tellest  me,  that  the  Royal  Sceptre 
is  but  a piece  of  gilt  wood ; that  the  Pyx  has  become  a most 
foolish  box,  and  truly,  as  Ancient  Pistol  thought,  ‘of  little 
price.’  A right  Conjurer  might  I name  thee,  couldst  thou 
conjure  back  into  these  wooden  tools  the  divine  virtue  they 
once  held. 

“ Of  this  thing,  however,  be  certain : wouldst  thou  plant 
for  Eternity,  then  plant  into  the  deep  infinite  faculties  of  man, 
his  Eantasy  and  Heart ; wouldst  thou  plant  for  Year  and  Bay, 
then  plant  into  his  shallow  superficial  faculties,  his  Self-love 
and  Arithmetical  Understanding,  what  will  grow  there.  A 


Chap.  IV. 


HELOTAGIE. 


171 


Hierarch,  therefore,  and  Pontiff  of  the  World  will  we  call 
him,  the  Poet  and  inspired  Maker ; who,  Prometheus-like,  can 
shape  new  Symbols,  and  bring  new  Fire  from  Heaven  to  fix 
it  there.  Such  too  will  not  always  be  wanting ; neither  per- 
haps now  are.  Meanwhile,  as  the  average  of  matters  goes,  we 
account  him  Legislator  and  wise  who  can  so  much  as  tell 
when  a Symbol  has  grown  old,  and  gently  remove  it. 

“When,  as  the  last  English  Coronation1  was  preparing,” 
concludes  this  wonderful  Professor,  “I  read  in  their  News- 
papers that  the  ‘ Champion  of  England/  he  who  has  to  offer 
battle  to  the  Universe  for  his  new  King,  had  brought  it  so  far 
that  he  could  now  ‘ mount  his  horse  with  little  assistance/  I 
said  to  myself : Here  also  we  have  a Symbol  well-nigh  super- 
annuated. Alas,  move  whithersoever  you  may,  are  not  the 
tatters  and  rags  of  superannuated  worn-out  Symbols  (in  this 
Kagfair  of  a World)  dropping  off  everywhere,  to  hoodwink,  to 
halter,  to  tether  you ; nay,  if  you  shake  them  not  aside,  threat- 
ening to  accumulate,  and  perhaps  produce  suffocation  ? ” 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

HELOTAGE. 

At  this  point  we  determine  on  adverting  shortly,  or  rather 
reverting,  to  a certain  Tract  of  Hofrath  Heuschrecke’s,  entitled 
Institute  for  the  Repression  of  Population ; which  lies,  dis- 
honorably enough  (with  torn  leaves,  and  a perceptible  smell 
of  aloetic  drugs),  stuffed  into  the  Bag  Pisces.  Not  indeed  for 
the  sake  of  the  tract  itself,  which  we  admire  little;  but  of 
the  marginal  Notes,  evidently  in  Teufelsdrockh’s  hand,  which 
rather  copiously  fringe  it.  A few  of  these  may  be  in  their 
right  place  here. 

Into  the  Hofrath’s  Institute , with  its  extraordinary  schemes, 
and  machinery  of  Corresponding  Boards  and  the  like,  we  shall 


1 That  of  George  IV.  — Ed. 


172 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


not  so  much  as  glance.  Enough  for  us  to  understand  that 
Heuschreeke  is  a disciple  of  Malthus ; and  so  zealous  for  the 
doctrine,  that  his  zeal  almost  literally  eats  him  up.  A deadly 
fear  of  Population  possesses  the  Hofrath  ; something  like  a 
fixed  idea ; undoubtedly  akin  to  the  more  diluted  forms  of 
Madness.  Nowhere,  in  that  quarter  of  his  intellectual  world, 
is  there  light ; nothing  but  a grim  shadow  of  Hunger ; open 
mouths  opening  wider  and  wider;  a world  to  terminate  by 
the  frightfullest  consummation : by  its  too  dense  inhabitants, 
famished  into  delirium,  universally  eating  one  another.  To 
make  air  for  himself  in  which  strangulation,  choking  enough 
to  a benevolent  heart,  the  Hofrath  founds,  or  proposes  to 
found,  this  Institute  of  his,  as  the  best  he  can  do.  It  is  only 
with  our  Professor’s  comments  thereon  that  we  concern  our- 
selves. 

First,  then,  remark  that  Teufelsdrockh,  as  a speculative 
Radical,  has  his  own  notions  about  human  dignity  ; that  the 
Zahdarm  palaces  and  courtesies  have  not  made  him  forgetful 
of  the  Futteral  cottages.  On  the  blank  cover  of  Heuschrecke’s 
Tract  we  find  the  following  indistinctly  engrossed : — 

“ Two  men  I honor,  and  no  third.  First,  the  toilworn  Crafts- 
man that  with  earth-made  Implement  laboriously  conquers 
the  Earth,  and  makes  her  man’s.  Venerable  to  me  is  the 
hard  Hand ; crooked,  coarse  ; wherein  notwithstanding  lies  a 
cunning  virtue,  indefeasibly  royal,  as  of  the  Sceptre  of  this 
Planet.  Venerable  too  is  the  rugged  face,  all  weather-tanned, 
besoiled,  with  its  rude  intelligence ; for  it  is  the  face  of  a Man 
living  manlike.  Oh,  but  the  more  venerable  for  thy  rudeness, 
and  even  because  we  must  pity  as  well  as  love  thee  ! Hardly- 
entreated  Brother  ! For  us  was  thy  back  so  bent,  for  us  were 
thy  straight  limbs  and  fingers  so  deformed:  thou  wert  our 
Conscript,  on  whom  the  lot  fell,  and  fighting  our  battles  wert 
so  marred.  For  in  thee  too  lay  a god-created  Form,  but  it  was 
not  to  be  unfolded  ; encrusted  must  it  stand  with  the  thick 
adhesions  and  defacements  of  Labor  : and  thy  body,  like  thy 
soul,  was  not  to  know  freedom.  Yet  toil  on,  toil  on:  thou 
art  in  thy  duty,  be  out  of  it  who  may ; thou  toilest  for  the 
altogether  indispensable,  for  daily  bread. 


Chap.  IV. 


HELOTAGE. 


173 


“ A second  man  I honor,  and  still  more  highly  : Him  who 
is  seen  toiling  for  the  spiritually  indispensable ; not  daily 
bread,  but  the  bread  of  Life.  Is  not  he  too  in  his  duty ; en- 
deavoring towards  inward  Harmony ; revealing  this,  by  act  or 
by  word,  through  all  his  outward  endeavors,  be  they  high  or 
low  ? Highest  of  all,  when  his  outward  and  his  inward  en- 
deavor are  one : when  we  can  name  him  Artist ; not  earthly 
Craftsman  only,  but  inspired  Thinker,  who  with  heaven-made 
Implement  conquers  Heaven  for  us  ! If  the  poor  and  humble 
toil  that  we  have  Food,  must  not  the  high  and  glorious  toil 
for  him  in  return,  that  he  have  Light,  have  Guidance,  Free- 
dom, Immortality  ? — These  two,  in  all  their  degrees,  I honor  : 
all  else  is  chaff  and  dust,  which  let  the  wind  blow  whither  it 
listeth. 

“ Unspeakably  touching  is  it,  however,  when  I find  both 
dignities  united  ; and  he  that  must  toil  outwardly  for  the 
lowest  of  man’s  wants,  is  also  toiling  inwardly  for  the  highest. 
Sublimer  in  this  world  know  I nothing  than  a Peasant  Saint, 
could  such  now  anywhere  be  met  with.  Such  a one  will  take 
thee  back  to  Nazareth  itself ; thou  wilt  see  the  splendor  of 
Heaven  spring  forth  from  the  humblest  depths  of  Earth,  like 
a light  shining  in  great  darkness.” 

And  again : “ It  is  not  because  of  his  toils  that  I lament  for 
the  poor : we  must  all  toil,  or  steal  (howsoever  we  name  our 
stealing),  which  is  worse ; no  faithful  workman  finds  his  task 
a pastime.  The  poor  is  hungry  and  athirst;  but  for  him  also 
there  is  food  and  drink : he  is  heavy-laden  and  weary ; but  for 
him  also  the  Heaven-s  send  Sleep,  and  of  the  deepest;  in  his 
smoky  cribs,  a clear  dewy  heaven  of  Rest  envelops  him,  and 
fitful  glitterings  of  cloud-skirted  Dreams.  But  what  I do 
mourn  over  is*  that  the  lamp  of  his  soul  should  go  out ; that 
no  ray  of  heavenly,  or  even  of  earthly  knowledge,  should  visit 
him ; but  only,  in  the  haggard  darkness,  like  two  spectres, 
Fear  and  Indignation  bear  him  company.  Alas,  while  the 
Body  stands  so  broad  and  brawny,  must  the  Soul  lie  blinded, 
dwarfed,  stupefied,  almost  annihilated ! Alas,  was  this  too  a 
Breath  of  God ; bestowed  in  Heaven,  but  on  earth  never  to  be 
unfolded ! — That  there  should  one  Man  die  ignorant  who  had 


174 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


capacity  for  Knowledge,  this  I call  a tragedy,  were  it  to  happen 
more  than  twenty  times  in  the  minute,  as  by  some  computa- 
tions it  does.  The  miserable  fraction  of  Science  which  our 
united  Mankind,  in  a wide  Universe  of  Nescience,  has  acquired, 
why  is  not  this,  with  all  diligence,  imparted  to  all  ? ” 

Quite  in  an  opposite  strain  is  the  following : u The  old 
Spartans  had  a wiser  method;  and  went  out  and  hunted  down 
their  Helots,  and  speared  and  spitted  them,  when  they  grew 
too  numerous.  With  our  improved  fashions  of  hunting,  Herr 
Hofrath,  now  after  the  invention  of  fire-arms,  and  standing 
armies,  how  much  easier  were  such  a hunt ! Perhaps  in  the 
most  thickly  peopled  country,  some  three  days  annually  might 
suffice  to  shoot  all  the  able-bodied  Paupers  that  had  accumu- 
lated within  the  year.  Let  Governments  think  of  this.  The 
expense  were  trifling:  nay  the  very  carcasses  would  pay  it. 
Have  them  salted  and  barrelled  ; could  not  you  victual  there- 
with, if  not  Army  and  Navy,  yet  richly,  such  infirm  Paupers, 
in  workhouses  and  elsewhere,  as  enlightened  Charity,  dreading 
no  evil  of  them,  might  see  good  to  keep  alive  ? ” 

“ And  yet,”  writes  he  farther  on,  “ there  must  be  something 
wrong.  A full-formed  Horse  will,  in  any  market,  bring  from 
twenty  to  as  high  as  two  hundred  Friedrichs  d’or : such  is  his 
worth  to  the  world.  A full-formed  Man  is  not  only  worth 
nothing  to  the  world,  but  the  world  could  afford  him  a round 
sum  would  he  simply  engage  to  go  and  hang  himself.  Never- 
theless, which  of  the  two  was  the  more  cunningly  devised 
article,  even  as  an  Engine  ? Good  Heavens  ! A white  Euro- 
pean Man,  standing  on  his  two  Legs,  with  his  two  five-fingered 
Hands  at  his  shackle-bones,  and  miraculous  Head  on  his 
shoulders,  is  worth,  I should  say,  from  fifty  to  a hundred 
Horses ! 99 

“ True,  thou  Gold-Hofrath,”  cries  the  Professor  elsewhere  : 
“ too  crowded  indeed ! Meanwhile,  what  portion  of  this  in- 
considerable terraqueous  Globe  have  ye  actually  tilled  and 
delved,  till  it  will  grow  no  more  ? How  thick  stands  your 
Population  in  the  Pampas  and  Savannas  of  America;  round 
ancient  Carthage,  and  in  the  interior  of  Africa  ; on  both 
slopes  of  the  Altaic  chain,  in  the  central  Platform  of  Asia  in 


Chap.  V. 


THE  PHCENIX. 


175 


Spain,  Greece,  Turkey,  Crim  Tartary,  the  Curragh  of  Kildare  ? 
One  man,  in  one  year,  as  I have  understood  it,  if  you  lend  him 
Earth,  will  feed  himself  and  nine  others.  Alas,  where  now 
are  the  Hengsts  and  Alarics  of  our  still-glowing,  still-expand- 
ing Europe ; who,  when  their  home  is  grown  too  narrow,  will 
enlist,  and,  like  Fire-pillars,  guide  onwards  those  superfluous 
masses  of  indomitable  living  Valor ; equipped,  not  now  with 
the  battle-axe  and  war-chariot,  but  with  the  steam-engine  and 
ploughshare  ? Where  are  they  ? — Preserving  their  Game  ! ” 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  PHCENIX. 

Putting  which  four  singular  Chapters  together,  and  along- 
side of  them  numerous  hints,  and  even  direct  utterances,  scat- 
tered over  these  Writings  of  his,  we  come  upon  the  startling 
yet  not  quite  unlooked-for  conclusion,  that  Teufelsdrockh  is 
one  of  those  who  consider  Society,  properly  so  called,  to  be  as 
good  as  extinct ; and  that  only  the  gregarious  feelings,  and  old 
inherited  habitudes,  at  this  juncture,  hold  us  from  Dispersion, 
and  universal  national,  civil,  domestic  and  personal  war ! He 
says  expressly : “ For  the  last  three  centuries,  above  all  for 
the  last  three  quarters  of  a century,  that  same  Pericardial 
Nervous  Tissue  (as  We  named  it)  of  Religion,  where  lies  the 
Life-essence  of  Society/  has  been  smote  at  and  perforated, 
needfully  and  needlessly ; till  now  it  is  quite  rent  into  shreds ; 
and  Society,  long  pining,  diabetic,  consumptive,  can  be  re- 
garded as  defunct ; for  those  spasmodic,  galvanic  sprawlings 
are  not  life  ; neither  indeed  will  they  endure,  galvanize  as 
you  may,  beyond  two  days.” 

“ Call  ye  that  a Society,”  cries  he  again,  “ where  there  is  no 
longer  any  Social  Idea  extant ; not  so  much  as  the  Idea  of  a 
common  Home,  but  only  of  a common  over-crowded  Lodging- 
house  ? Where  each,  isolated,  regardless  of  his  neighbor, 


176 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


turned  against  his  neighbor,  clutches  what  he  can  get,  and 
cries  ‘ Mine  ! ’ and  calls  it  Peace,  because,  in  the  cut-purse  and 
cut-throat  Scramble,  no  steel  knives,  but  only  a far  cunninger 
sort,  can  be  employed  ? Where  Friendship,  Communion,  has 
become  an  incredible  tradition ; and  your  holiest  Sacramental 
Supper  is  a smoking  Tavern  Dinner,  with  Cook  for  Evangelist  ? 
Where  your  Priest  has  no  tongue  but  for  plate-licking:  and 
your  high  Guides  and  Governors  cannot  guide  ; but  on  all 
hands  hear  it  passionately  proclaimed : Laissez  fairs ; Leave 
us  alone  of  your  guidance,  such  light  is  darker  than  darkness  ; 
eat  you  your  wages,  and  sleep ! 

“ Thus,  too,”  continues  he,  “ does  an  observant  eye  discern 
everywhere  that  saddest  spectacle  : The  Poor  perishing,  like 
neglected,  fonndered  Draught-Cattle,  of  Hunger  and  Over- 
work ; the  Rich,  still  more  wretchedly,  of  Idleness,  Satiety, 
and  Overgrowth.  The  Highest  in  rank,  at  length,  without 
honor  from  the  Lowest;  scarcely,  with  a little  mouth-honor, 
as  from  tavern-waiters  who  expect  to  put  it  in  the  bill.  Once- 
sacred  Symbols  fluttering  as  empty  Pageants,  whereof  men 
grudge  even  the  expense ; a World  becoming  dismantled : in 
one  word,  the  Church  fallen  speechless,  from  obesity  and 
apoplexy ; the  State  shrunken  into  a Police-Office,  straitened 
to  get  its  pay  ! ” 

We  might  ask,  are  there  many  “ observant  eyes,”  belonging 
to  practical  men  in  England  or  elsewhere,  which  have  descried 
these  phenomena ; or  is  it  only  from  the  mystic  elevation  of  a 
German  Wahngasse  that  such  wonders  are  visible  ? Teufels- 
drockh  contends  that  the  aspect  of  a “ deceased  or  expiring 
Society”  fronts  us  everywhere,  so  that  whoso  rims  may  read. 
“What,  for  example,”  says  he,  “is  the  universally  arrogated 
Virtue,  almost  the  sole  remaining  Catholic  Virtue,  of  these 
days  ? For  some  half-century,  it  has  been  the  thing  you  name 
4 Independence/  Suspicion  of  ‘Servility/  of  reverence  for 
Superiors,  the  very  dog-leech  is  anxious  to  disavow.  Fools ! 
Were  your  Superiors  worth3T  to  govern,  and  you  worthy  to 
obey,  reverence  for  them  were  even  your  only  possible  free- 
dom. Independence,  in  all  kinds,  is  rebellion ; if  unjust 
rebellion,  why  parade  it,  and  everywhere  prescribe  it  ? ” 


Chap.  Y.  ' 


THE  PHOENIX. 


177 


But  what  then  ? Are  we  returning,  as  Rousseau  prayed, 
to  the  state  of  Nature  ? “ The  Soul  Politic  having  departed,” 

says  Teufelsdrockh,  “ what  can  follow  but  that  the  Body 
Politic  be  decently  interred,  to  avoid  putrescence  ? Liberals, 
Economists,  Utilitarians  enough  I see  marching  with  its  bier, 
and  chanting  loud  pseans,  towards  the  funeral  pile,  where, 
amid  wailings  from  some,  and  saturnalian  revelries  from  the 
most,  the  venerable  Corpse  is  to  be  burnt.  Or,  in  plain  words, 
that  these  men,  Liberals,  Utilitarians,  or  whatsoever  they  are 
called,  will  ultimately  carry  their  point,  and  dissever  and 
destroy  most  existing  Institutions  of  Society,  seems  a thing 
which  has  some  time  ago  ceased  to  be  doubtful. 

“Do  we  not  see  a little  subdivision  of  the  grand  Utili- 
tarian Armament  come  to  light  even  in  insulated  England  ? 
A living  nucleus,  that  will  attract  and  grow,  does  at  length 
appear  there  also ; and  under  curious  phasis ; properly  as  the 
inconsiderable  fag-end,  and  so  far  in  the  rear  of  the  others  as 
to  fancy  itself  the  van.  Our  European  Mechanizers  are  a sect 
of  boundless  diffusion,  activity,  and  co-operative  spirit : has 
not  Utilitarianism  flourished  in  high  places  of  Thought,  here 
among  ourselves,  and  in  every  European  country,  at  some  time 
or  other,  within  the  last  fifty  years  ? If  now  in  all  countries, 
except  perhaps  England,  it  has  ceased  to  flourish,  or  indeed  to 
exist,  among  Thinkers,  and  sunk  to  Journalists  and  the  popu- 
lar mass,  — who  sees  not  that,  as  hereby  it  no  longer  preaches, 
so  the  reason  is,  it  now  needs  no  Preaching,  but  is  in  full  uni- 
versal Action,  the  doctrine  everywhere  known,  and  enthusias- 
tically laid  to  heart  ? The  fit  pabulum,  in  these  times,  for  a 
certain  rugged  workshop  intellect  and  heart,  nowise  without 
their  corresponding  workshop  strength  and  ferocity,  it  requires 
but  to  be  stated  in  such  scenes  to  make  proselytes  enough.  — 
Admirably  calculated  for  destroying,  only  not  for  rebuilding  ! 
It  spreads  like  a sort  of  Dog-madness ; till  the  whole  World- 
kennel  will  be  rabid : then  woe  to  the  Huntsmen,  with  or  with- 
out their  whips ! They  should  have  given  the  quadrupeds 
water,”  adds  he ; “ the  water,  namely,  of  Knowledge  and  of 
Life,  while  it  was  yet  time.” 

Thus,  if  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  can  be  relied  on,  we  are 
12 


VOL.  I. 


178 


SARTOR  RESARTIJS. 


Book  Ilh 


at  this  hour  in  a most  critical  condition;  beleaguered  by 
that  boundless  “ Armament  of  Mechanizers  ” and  Unbeliever^ 
threatening  to  strip  us  bare!  “The  World/’  says  he,  “ar*. 
it  needs  must,  is  under  a process  of  devastation  and  waste- 
which,  whether  by  silent  assiduous  corrosion,  or  open  quicker 
combustion,  as  the  case  chances,  will  effectually  enough  anni 
hilate  the  past  Forms  of  Society ; replace  them  with  what  it 
may.  For  the  present,  it  is  contemplated  that  when  man’*, 
whole  Spiritual  Interests  are  once  divested , these  innumerable 
stript-off  Garments  shall  mostly  be  burnt ; but  the  sounder 
Rags  among  them  be  quilted  together  into  one  huge  Irish 
watch-coat  for  the  defence  of  the  Body  only ! ” — This,  we 
think,  is  but  Job’s -news  to  the  humane  reader. 

“Nevertheless,”  cries  Teufelsdrockh,  “who  can  hinder  it; 
who  is  there  that  can  clutch  into  the  wheelspokes  of  Destiny, 
and  say  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Time  : Turn  back,  I command 
thee  ? — Wiser  were  it  that  we  yielded  to  the  Inevitable  and 
Inexorable,  and  accounted  even  this  the  best.” 

Nay,  might  not  an  attentive  Editor,  drawing  his  own  infer- 
ences from  what  stands  written,  conjecture  that  Teufelsdrockh 
individually  had  yielded  to  this  same  “ Inevitable  and  Inexo- 
rable ” heartily  enough ; and  now  sat  waiting  the  issue,  with 
his  natural  diabolico-angelical  Indifference,  if  not  even  Pla- 
cidity ? Did  we  not  hear  him  complain  that  the  World  was 
a “ huge  Ragfair,”  and  the  “rags  and  tatters  of  old  Symbols ” 
were  raining  down  everywhere,  like  to  drift  him  in,  and  suffo- 
cate him:  ? What  with  those  “ unhunted  Helots  ” of  his ; and 
the  uneven  sic  vos  non  vobis  pressure  and  hard-crashing  col- 
lision he  is  pleased  to  discern  in  existing  things  ; what  with 
the  so  hateful  “empty  Masks,”  full  of  beetles  and  spiders,  yet 
glaring  out  on  him,  from  their  glass  eyes,  “ with  a ghastly 
affectation  of  life,”  — we  feel  entitled  to  conclude  him  even 
willing  that  much  should  be  thrown  to  the  Devil,  so  it  were 
but  done  gently!  Safe  himself  in  that  “Pinnacle  of  Weiss- 
nichtwo,”  he  would  consent,  with  a tragic  solemnity,  that  the 
monster  Utilitaria,  held  back,  indeed,  and  moderated  by 
nose-rings,  halters,  foot-shackles,  and  every  conceivable  modi- 
fication of  rope,  should  go  forth  to  do  her  work ; — to  tread 


Chap.  V. 


THE  PHGENIX. 


179 


down  old  ruinous  Palaces  and  Temples  with  her  broad  hoof, 
till  the  whole  were  trodden  down,  that  new  and  better  might 
be  built ! Remarkable  in  this  point  of  view  are  the  following 
sentences. 

11  Society,”  says  he,  “is  not  dead : that  Carcass,  which  you  call 
dead  Society,  is  but  her  mortal  coil  which  she  has  shuffled  off, 
to  assume  a nobler ; she  herself,  through  perpetual  metamor- 
phoses, in  fairer  and  fairer  development,  has  to  live  till  Time 
also  merge  in  Eternity.  Wheresoever  two  or  three  Living 
Men  are  gathered  together,  there  is  Society ; or  there  ifc  will 
be,  with  its  cunning  mechanisms  and  stupendous  structures, 
overspreading  this  little  Globe,  and  reaching  upwards  to 
Heaven  and  downwards  to  Gehenna:  for  always,  under  one 
or  the  other  figure,  it  has  two  authentic  Revelations,  of  a God 
and.  of  a Devil ; the  Pulpit,  namely,  and  the  Gallows.” 

Indeed,  we  already  heard  him  speak  of  “Religion,  in  un- 
noticed nooks,  weaving  for  herself  new  Vestures  — Teufels- 
drockh  himself  being  one  of  the  loom-treadles  ? Elsewhere 
he  quotes  without  censure  that  strange  aphorism  of  Saint 
Simon’s,  concerning  which  and  whom  so  much  were  to  be  said : 
“ L’dge  d’or,  qu’une  aveugle  tradition  a 'place  jusqu’ici  dans  le 
passe,  est  devant  nous ; The  golden  age,  which  a blind  tradi- 
tion has  hitherto  placed  in  the  Past,  is  Before  us.”  — But 
listen  again : — 

“ When  the  Phoenix  is  fanning  her  funeral  pyre,  will  there 
not  be  sparks  flying ! Alas,  some  millions  of  men,  and  among 
them  such  as  a Napoleon,  have  already  been  licked  into  that 
high-eddying  Flame,  and  like  moths  consumed  there.  Still 
also  have  we  to  fear  that  incautious  beards  will  get  singed. 

“ For  the  rest,  in  what  year  of  grace  such  Phoenix-cremation 
will  be  completed,  you  need  not  ask.  The  law  of  Persever- 
ance is  among  the  deepest  in  man : by  nature  he  hates  change ; 
seldom  will  he  quit  his  old  house  till  it  has  actually  fallen 
about  his  ears.  Thus  have  I seen  Solemnities  linger  as  Cere- 
monies, sacred  Symbols  as  idle  Pageants,  to  the  extent  of 
three  hundred  years  and  more  after  all  life  and  sacredness  had 
evaporated  out  of  them.  And  then,  finally,  what  time  the 
Phoenix  Death-Birth  itself  will  require,  depends  on  unseen 


180 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


contingencies.  — Meanwhile,  would  Destiny  offer  Mankind,  that 
after,  say  two  centuries  of  convulsion  and  conflagration,  more 
or  less  vivid,  the  fire-creation  should  be  accomplished,  and 
we  to  find  ourselves  again  in  a Living  Society,  and  no  longer 
fighting  but  working, — were  it  not  perhaps  prudent  in  Man- 
kind to  strike  the  bargain?” 

Thus  is  Teufelsdrockh  content  that  old  sick  Society  should 
be  deliberately  burnt  (alas,  with  quite  other  fuel  than  spice- 
wood);  in  the  faith  that  she  is  a Phoenix;  and  that  a new 
heaven-born  young  one  will  rise  out  of  her  ashes ! We  our- 
selves, restricted  to  the  duty  of  Indicator,  shall  forbear  com- 
mentary. Meanwhile,  will  not  the  judicious  reader  shake  his 
head,  and  reproachfully,  yet  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,  say 
or  think  : Prom  a Doctor  utriusgrue  Juris,  titular  Professor  in  a 
University,  and  man  to  whom  hitherto,  for  his  services,  Soci- 
ety, bad  as  she  is,  has  given  not  only  food  and  raiment  (of  a 
kind),  but  books,  tobacco  and  gukguk,  we  expected  more  grati- 
tude to  his  benefactress ; and  less  of  a blind  trust  in  the  future, 
which  resembles  that  rather  of  a philosophical  Fatalist  and 
Enthusiast,  than  of  a solid  householder  paying  scot-and-lot  in 
a Christian  country. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD  CLOTHES. 

As  mentioned  above,  Teufelsdrockh,  though  a Sansculot- 
tist,  is  in  practice  probably  the  politest  man  extant : his 
whole  heart  and  life  are  penetrated  and  informed  with  the 
spirit  of  politeness  ; a noble  natural  Courtesy  shines  through 
him,  beautifying  his  vagaries  ; like  sunlight,  making  a rosy- 
fingered,  rainbow-dyed  Aurora  out  of  mere  aqueous  clouds; 
nay  brightening  London-smoke  itself  into  gold  vapor,  as  from 
the  crucible  of  an  alchemist.  Hear  in  what  earnest  though 
fantastic  wise  he  expresses  himself  on  this  head  : — 


Chap.  VI. 


OLD  CLOTHES. 


181 


“ Shall  Courtesy  be  done  only  to  the  rich,  and  only  by  the 
rich  ? In  Good-breeding,  which  differs,  if  at  all,  from  High- 
breeding,  only  as  it  gracefully  remembers  the  rights  of  others, 
rather  than  gracefully  insists  on  its  own  rights,  I discern  no 
special  connection  with  wealth  or  birth  : but  rather  that  it 
lies  in  human  nature  itself,  and  is  due  from  all  men  towards 
all  men.  Of  a truth,  were  your  Schoolmaster  at  his  post,  and 
worth  anything  when  there,  this,  with  so  much  else,  would  be 
reformed.  Nay,  each  man  were  then  also  his  neighbor’s  school- 
master ; till  at  length  a rude-yisaged,  unmannered  Peasant 
could  no  more  be  met  with,  than  a Peasant  unacquainted  with 
botanical  Physiology,  or  who  felt  not  that  the  clod  he  broke 
was  created  in  Heaven. 

“For  whether  thou  bear  a sceptre  or  a sledge-hammer,  art 
not  thou  alive  ; is  not  this  thy  brother  alive  ? ‘ There  is 

but  one  temple  in  the  world,’  says  Novalis,  ‘ and  that  temple 
is  the  Body  of  Man.  Nothing  is  holier  than  this  high  Form. 
Bending  before  men  is  a reverence  done  to  this  Bevelation  in 
the  Flesh.  We  touch  Heaven,  when  we  lay  our  hands  on  a 
human  Body.’ 

“ On  which  ground,  I would  fain  carry  it  farther  than  most 
do;  and  whereas  the  English  Johnson  only  bowed  to  every 
Clergyman,  or  man  with  a shovel-hat,  I would  bow  to  every 
Man  with  any  sort  of  hat,  or  with  no  hat  whatever.  Is  not 
he  a Temple,  then ; the  visible  Manifestation  and  Impersona- 
tion of  the  Divinity  ? And  yet,  alas,  such  indiscriminate 
bowing  serves  not.  For  there  is  a Devil  dwells  in  man,  as  well 
as  a Divinity ; and  too  often  the  bow  is  but  pocketed  by  the 
former.  It  would  go  to  the  pocket  of  Vanity  (which  is  your 
clearest  phasis  of  the  Devil,  in  these  times) ; therefore  must 
we  withhold  it. 

“ The  gladder  am  I,  on  the  other  hand,  to  do  reverence  to 
those  Shells  and  outer  Husks  of  the  Body,  wherein  no  devil- 
ish passion  any  longer  lodges,  but  only  the  pure  emblem  and 
effigies  of  Man:  I mean,  to  Empty,  or  even  to  Cast  Clothes. 
Nay,  is  it  not  to  Clothes  that  most  men  do  reverence : to  the 
fine  frogged  broadcloth,  nowise  to  the  ‘ straddling  animal  with 
bandy  legs  ’ which  it  holds,  and  makes  a Dignitary  of  ? Who 


182 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


ever  saw  any  Lord  my-lorded  in  tattered  blanket  fastened  with 
wooden  skewer  ? Nevertheless,  I say,  there  is  in  such  wor- 
ship a shade  of  hypocrisy,  a practical  deception : for  how 
often  does  the  Body  appropriate  what  was  meant  for  the 
Cloth  only ! Whoso  would  avoid  falsehood,  which  is  the 
essence  of  all  Sin,  will  perhaps  see  good  to  take  a different 
course.  That  reverence  which  cannot  act  without  obstruction 
and  perversion  when  the  Clothes  are  full,  may  have  free 
course  when  they  are  empty.  Even  as,  for  Hindoo  Worship- 
pers, the  Pagoda  is  not  less  sacred  than  the  God ; so  do  I too 
worship  the  hollow  cloth  Garment  with  equal  fervor,  as  when 
it  contained  the  Man : nay,  with  more,  for  I now  fear  no 
deception,  of  myself  or  of  others. 

“ Did  not  King  Toomtabard , or,  in  other  words,  John  Baliol, 
reign  long  over  Scotland;  the  man  John  Baliol  being  quite 
gone,  and  only  the  ‘ Toom  Tabard  ’ (Empty  Gown)  remaining  ? 
What  still  dignity  dwells  in  a suit  of  Cast  Clothes ! How 
meekly  it  bears  its  honors  ! No  haughty  looks,  no  scornful 
gesture:  silent  and  serene,  it  fronts  the  world;  neither  de- 
manding worship,  nor  afraid  to  miss  it.  The  Hat  still  carries 
the  physiognomy  of  its  Head  : but  the  vanity  and  the  stupidity, 
and  goose-speech  which  was  the  sign  of  these  two,  are  gone. 
The  Coat-arm  is  stretched  out,  but  not  to  strike ; the  Breeches, 
in  modest  simplicity,  depend  at  ease,  and  now  at  last  have  a 
graceful  flow ; the  Waistcoat  hides  no  evil  passion,  no  riotous 
desire ; hunger  or  thirst  now  dwells  not  in  it.  Thus  all  is 
purged  from  the  grossness  of  sense,  from  the  carking  cares 
and  foul  vices  of  the  World ; and  rides  there,  on  its  Clothes- 
horse  ; as,  on  a Pegasus,  might  some  skyey  Messenger,  or 
purified  Apparition,  visiting  our  low  Earth. 

" Often,  while  I sojourned  in  that  monstrous  tuberosity  of 
Civilized  Life,  the  Capital  of  England ; and  meditated,  and 
questioned  Destiny,  under  that  ink-sea  of  vapor,  black,  thick, 
and  multifarious  as  Spartan  broth ; and  was  one  lone  soul 
amid  those  grinding  millions  ; — often  have  I turned  into  their 
Old-Clothes  Market  to  worship.  With  awe-struck  heart  I 
walk  through  that  Monmouth  Street,  with  its  empty  Suits,  as 
through  a Sanhedrim  of  stainless  Ghosts.  Silent  are  they 


Chai*.  VI. 


OLD  CLOTHES. 


183 


but  expressive  in  their  silence  : the  past  witnesses  and  instru- 
ments of  Woe  and  Joy,  of  Passions,  Virtues,  Crimes,  and  all 
the  fathomless  tumult  of  Good  and  Evil  in  ‘ the  Prison  men 
call  Life.’  Friends  ! trust  not  the  heart  of  that  man  for  whom 
Old  Clothes  are  not  venerable.  Watch,  too,  with  reverence, 
that  bearded  Jewish  High-priest,  who  with  hoarse  voice,  like 
some  Angel  of  Doom,  summons  them  from  the  four  winds  ! 
On  his  head,  like  the  Pope,  he  has  three  Hats,  — a real  triple 
tiara  ; on  either  hand  arc  the  similitude  of  wings,  whereon  the 
summoned  Garments  come  to  alight ; and  ever,  as  he  slowly 
cleaves  the  air,  sounds  forth  his  deep  fateful  note,  as  if  through 
a trumpet  he  were  proclaiming : ‘ Ghosts  of  Life,  come  to 
Judgment ! ’ Peck  not,  ye  fluttering  Ghosts  : he  will  purify 
you  in  his  Purgatory,  with  fire  and  with  water  ; and,  one  day, 
new-created  ye  shall  reappear.  Oh,  let  him  in  whom  the  flame 
of  Devotion  is  ready  to  go  out,  who  has  never  worshipped,  and 
knows  not  ’what  to  worship,  pace  and  repace,  with  austerest 
thought,  the  pavement  of  Monmouth  Street,  and  say  whether 
his  heart  and  his  eyes  still  continue  dry.  If  Field  Lane,  with 
its  long  fluttering  rows  of  yellow  handkerchiefs,  be  a Dionysius’ 
Ear,  where,  in  stifled  jarring  hubbub,  we  hear  the  Indictment 
which  Poverty  and  Vice  bring  against  lazy  Wealth,  that  it 
has  left  them  there  cast  out  and  trodden  under  foot  of  Want, 
Darkness  and  the  Devil,  — then  is  Monmouth  Street  a Mirza’s 
Hill,  where,  in  motley  vision,  the  whole  Pageant  of  Existence 
passes  awfully  before  us  ; with  its  wail  and  jubilee,  mad  loves 
and  mad  hatreds,  church-bells  and  gallows-ropes,  farce-tragedy, 
beast-godhood,  — the  Bedlam  of  Creation  ! ” 

To  most  men,  as  it  does  to  ourselves,  all  this  will  seem 
overcharged.  We  too  have  walked  through  Monmouth  Street ; 
but  with  little  feeling  of  “ Devotion  : ” probably  in  part  be- 
cause the  contemplative  process  is  so  fatally  broken  in  upon 
by  the  brood  of  money-changers  who  nestle  in  that  Church, 
and  importune  the  worshipper  with  merely  secular  proposals. 
Whereas  Teufelsdrockh  might  be  in  that  happy  middle  state, 
which  leaves  to  the  Clothe s-broker  no  hope  either  of  sale  or  of 
purchase,  and  so  be  allowed  to  linger  there  without  molesta- 


184 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


tion.  — Something  we  would  have  given  to  see  the  little  philo- 
sophical figure,  with  its  steeple-hat  and  loose  flowing  skirts, 
and  eyes  in  a fine  frenzy,  “ pacing  and  repacing  in  austerest 
thought  ” that  foolish  Street ; which  to  him  was  a true  Del- 
phic avenue,  and  supernatural  Whispering-gallery,  where  the 
“ Ghosts  of  Life  ” rounded  strange  secrets  in  his  ear.  0 thou 
philosophic  Teufelsdrockh,  that  listenest  while  others  only  gab- 
ble, and  with  thy  quick  tympanum  hearest  the  grass  grow  ! 

At  the  same  time,  is  it  not  strange  that,  in  Paper-bag  Docu- 
ments destined  for  an  English  work,  there  exists  nothing  like 
an  authentic  diary  of  this  his  sojourn  in  London ; and  of  his 
Meditations  among  the  Clothes-shops  only  the  obscurest  em- 
blematic shadows  ? N either,  in  conversation  (for,  indeed,  he 
was  not  a man  to  pester  you  with  his  Travels),  have  we  heard 
him  more  than  allude  to  the  subject. 

For  the  rest,  however,  it  cannot  be  uninteresting  that  we 
here  find  how  early  the  significance  of  Clothes  had  dawned 
on  the  now  so  distinguished  Clothes-Professor.  Might  we  but 
fancy  it  to  have  been  even  in  Monmouth  Street,  at  the  bottom 
of  our  own  English  “ ink-sea,”  that  this  remarkable  Volume 
first  took  being,  and  shot  forth  its  salient  point  in  his  soul,  — 
as  in  Chaos  did  the  Egg  of  Eros,  one  day  to  be  hatched  into  a 
Universe  ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ORGANIC  FILAMENTS. 

For  us,  who  happen  to  live  while  the  World-Phoenix  is 
burning  herself,  and  burning  so  slowly  that,  as  Teufelsdrockh 
calculates,  it  were  a handsome  bargain  would  she  engage  to 
have  done  “ within  two  centuries,”  there  seems  to  lie  but  an 
ashy  prospect.  Not  altogether  so,  however,  does  the  Professor 
figure  it.  “In  the  living  subject,”  says  he,  “change  is  wont 
to  be  gradual : thus,  while  the  serpent  sheds  its  old  skin,  the 
new  is  already  formed  beneath.  Little  knowest  thou  of  the 


Chap.  VII. 


ORGANIC  FILAMENTS. 


185 


burning  of  a World-Phoenix,  who  fanciest  that  she  must  first 
burn  out,  and  lie  as  a dead  cinereous  heap ; and  therefrom 
the  young  one  start  up  by  miracle,  and  fly  heavenward.  Far 
otherwise  ! In  that  Fire-whirlwind,  Creation  and  Destruction 
proceed  together ; ever  as  the  ashes  of  the  Old  are  blown  about, 
do  organic  filaments  of  the  New  mysteriously  spin  themselves  : 
and  amid  the  rushing  and  the  waving  of  the  Whirlwind  ele- 
ment come  tones  of  a melodious  Death-song,  which  end  not  but 
in  tones  Of  a more  melodious  Birth-song.  Nay,  look  into  the 
Fire-whirlwind  with  thy  own  eyes,  and  thou  wilt  see.”  Let  us 
actually  look,  then : to  poor  individuals,  who  cannot  expect  to 
live  two  centuries,  those  same  organic  filaments,  mysteriously 
spinning  themselves,  will  be  the  best  part  of  the  spectacle. 
First,  therefore,  this  of  Mankind  in  general : — 

In  vain  thou  deniest  it,”  says  the  Professor;  “ thou  art 
my  Brother.  Thy  very  Hatred,  thy  very  Envy,  those  foolish 
Lies  thou  tellest  of  me  in  thy  splenetic  humor : what  is  all 
this  but  an  inverted  Sympathy  ? Were  I a Steam-engine, 
wouldst  thou  take  the  trouble  to  tell  lies  of  me  ? Not  thou  ! 
I should  grind  all  unheeded,  whether  badly  or  well. 

“ Wondrous  truly  are  the  bonds  that  unite  us  one  and 
all ; whether  by  the  soft  binding  of  Love,  or  the  iron  chain- 
ing of  Necessity,  as  we  like  to  choose  it.  More  than  once 
have  I said  to  myself,  of  some  perhaps  whimsically  strutting 
Figure,  such  as  provokes  whimsical  thoughts:  ‘Wert  thou, 
my  little  Brotherkin,  suddenly  covered  up  within  the  largest 
imaginable  Glass  bell, — what  a thing  it  were,  not  for  thy- 
self only,  but  for  the  world!  Post  Letters,  more  or  fewer, 
from  all  the  four  winds,  impinge  against  thy  Glass  walls, 
but  have  to  drop  unread:  neither  from  within  comes  there 
question  or  response  into  any  Post-bag;  thy  Thoughts  fall 
into  no  friendly  ear  or  heart,  thy  Manufacture  into  no  pur- 
chasing hand:  thou  art  no  longer  a circulating  venous- 
arterial  Heart,  that,  taking  and  giving,  circulatest  through 
all  Space  and  all  Time:  there  has  a Hole  fallen  out  in  the 
immeasurable,  universal  World-tissue,  which  must  be  darned 
up  again ! 9 

“Such  venous-arterial  circulation,  of  Letters,  verbal  Mes- 


186 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III 


sages,  paper  and  other  Packages,  going  out  from  him  and 
coming  in,  are  a blood-circulation,  visible  to  the  eye : but 
the  finer  nervous  circulation,  by  which  all  things,  the  mi- 
nutest that  he  does,  minutely  influence  all  men,  and  the 
very  look  of  his  face  blesses  or  curses  whomso  it  lights  on, 
and  so  generates  ever  new  blessing  or  new  cursing:  all 
this  you  cannot  see,  but  only  imagine.  I say,  there  is  not 
a red  Indian,  hunting  by  Lake  Winnipeg,  can  quarrel  with 
his  squaw,  but  the  whole  world  must  smart  for  it : will  not 
the  price  of  beaver  rise  ? It  is  a mathematical  fact  that  the 
casting  of  this  pebble  from  my  hand  alters  the  centre  of 
gravity  of  the  Universe. 

“ If  now  an  existing  generation  of  men  stand  so  woven 
together,  not  less  indissolubly  does  generation  with  genera- 
tion. Hast  thou  ever  meditated  on  that  word,  Tradition : 
how  we  inherit  not  Life  only,  but  all  the  garniture  and 
form  of  Life ; and  work,  and  speak,  and  even  think  and 
feel,  as  our  Fathers,  and  primeval  grandfathers,  from  the 
beginning,  have  given  it  us  ? — Who  printed  thee,  for  ex- 
ample, this  unpretending  Volume  on  the  Philosophy  of 
Clothes  ? Hot  the  Herren  Stillschweigen  and  Company ; 
but  Cadmus  of  Thebes,  Faust  of  Mentz,  and  innumerable 
others  whom  thou  knowest  not.  Had  there  been  no  Moeso- 
gothic  Ulfila,  there  had  been  no  English  Shakspeare,  or  a 
different  one.  Simpleton ! It  was  Tubal-cain  that  made  thy 
very  Tailor’s  needle,  and  sewed  that  court-suit  of  thine. 

“ Yes,  truly,  if  Nature  is  one,  and  a living  indivisible  whole, 
much  more  is  Mankind,  the  Image  that  reflects  and  creates 
Nature,  without  which  Nature  were  not.  As  palpable  life- 
streams  in  that  wondrous  Individual  Mankind,  among  so 
many  life-streams  that  are  not  palpable,  flow  on  those  main 
currents  of  what  we  call  Opinion;  as  preserved  in  Institu- 
tions, Polities,  Churches,  above  all  in  Books.  Beautiful  it  is 
to  understand  and  know  that  a Thought  did  never  yet  die; 
that  as  thou,  the  originator  thereof,  hast  gathered  it  and 
created  it  from  the  whole  Past,  so  thou  wilt  transmit  it  to 
the  whole  Future.  It  is  thus  that  the  heroic  heart,  the  seeing 
eye  of  the  first  times,  still  feels  and  sees  in  us  of  the  latest ; 


Chap.  VII. 


ORGANIC  FILAMENTS. 


187 


that  the  Wise  Man  stands  ever  encompassed,  and  spiritually 
embraced,  by  a cloud  of  witnesses  and  brothers;  and  there 
is  a living,  literal  Communion  of  Saints,  wide  as  the  World 
itself,  and  as  the  History  of  the  World. 

“Noteworthy  also,  and  serviceable  for  the  progress  of  this 
same  Individual,  wilt  thou  find  his  subdivision  into  Genera- 
tions. Generations  are  as  the  Days  of  toilsome  Mankind: 
Death  and  Birth  are  the  vesper  and  the  matin  bells,  that 
summon  Mankind  to  sleep,  and  to  rise  refreshed  for  new 
advancement.  What  the  Father  has  made,  the  Son  can  make 
and  enjoy;  but  has  also  work  of  his  own  appointed  him. 
Thus  all  things  wax,  and  roll  onwTards ; Arts,  Establishments, 
Opinions,  nothing  is  completed,  but  ever  completing.  Newton 
has  learned  to  see  what  Kepler  saw ; but  there  is  also  a fresh 
heaven-derived  force  in  Newton;  he  must,  mount  to  still 
higher  points  of  vision.  So  too  the  Hebrew  Lawgiver  is,  in 
due  time,  followed  by  an  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  In  the 
business  of  Destruction,  as  this  also  is  from  time  to  time  a 
necessary  work,  thou  findest  a like  sequence  and  persever- 
ance : for  Luther  it  was  as  yet  hot  enough  to  stand  by  that 
burning  of  the  Pope’s  Bull ; Voltaire  could  not  warm  himself 
at  the  glimmering  ashes,  but  required  quite  other  fuel.  Thus 
likewise,  I note,  the  English  Whig  has,  in  the  second  genera- 
tion, become  an  English  Radical ; who,  in  the  third  again,  it 
is  to  be  hoped,  will  become  an  English  Rebuilder.  Find 
Mankind  where  thou  wilt,  thou  findest  it  in  living  movement, 
in  progress  faster  or  slower : the  Phoenix  soars  aloft,  hovers 
with  outstretched  wings,  filling  Earth  with  her  music;  or, 
as  now,  she  sinks,  and  with  spheral  swan-song  immolates 
herself  in  flame,  that  she  may  soar  the  hfgher  and  sing  the 
clearer.” 

Let  the  friends  of  social  order,  in  such  a disastrous  period, 
lay  this  to  heart,  'and  derive  from  it  any  little  comfort  they 
can.  We  subjoin  another  passage,  concerning  Titles : — 

“Remark,  not  without  surprise,”  says  Teufelsdrockh,  “how 
all  high  Titles  of  Honor  come  hitherto  from  Fighting.  Your 
Herzog  (Duke,  Dux)  is  Leader  of  Armies ; your  Earl  ( Jarl ) 
is  Strong  Man;  your  Marshal  cavalry  Horse-shoer.  A Mil- 


188 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


lennium,  or  reign,  of  Peace  and  Wisdom,  having  from  of  old 
been  prophesied,  and  becoming  now  daily  more  and  more 
indubitable,  may  it  not  be  apprehended  that  such  Fighting- 
titles  will  cease  to  be  palatable,  and  new  and  higher  need 
to  be  devised  ? 

“ The  only  Title  wherein  I,  with  confidence,  trace  eternity, 
is  that  of  King.  Konig  (King),  anciently  Konning , means 
Ken-ning  (Cunning),  or  which  is  the  same  thing,  Can-ning. 
Ever  must  the  Sovereign  of  Mankind  be  fitly  entitled  King.” 

“ Well,  also,”  says  he  elsewhere,  “was  it  written  by  Theo- 
logians : a King  rules  by  divine  right.  He  carries  in  him 
an  authority  from  God,  or  man  will  never  give  it  him. 
Can  I choose  my  own  King  ? I can  choose  my  own  King 
Popinjay,  and  play  what  farce  or  tragedy  I may  with  him : 
but  he  who  is  to  be  my  Ruler,  whose  will  is  to  be  higher 
than  my  will,  was  chosen  for  me  in  Heaven.  Neither  except 
in  such  Obedience  to  the  Heaven-chosen  is  Freedom  so  much 
as  conceivable.” 

The  Editor  will  here  admit  that,  among  all  the  wondrous 
provinces  of  Teufelsdrockh’s  spiritual  world,  there  is  none 
he  walks  in  with  such  astonishment,  hesitation,  and  even 
pain,  as  in  the  Political.  How,  with  our  English  love  of 
Ministry  and  Opposition,  and  that  generous  conflict  of  Par- 
ties, mind  warming  itself  against  mind  in  their  mutual 
wrestle  for  the  Public  Good,  by  which  wrestle,  indeed,  is 
our  invaluable  Constitution  kept  warm  and  alive ; how  shall 
we  domesticate  ourselves  in  this  spectral  Necropolis,  or 
rather  City  both  of  the  Dead  and  of  the  Unborn,  where 
the  Present  seems  little  other  than  an  inconsiderable  Film 
dividing  the  Past  and  the  Future  ? In  those  dim  long-drawn 
expanses,  all  is  so  immeasurable ; much  so  disastrous,  ghastly ; 
your  very  radiances  and  straggling  light-beams  have  a super- 
natural character.  And  then  with  such  an  indifference,  such 
a prophetic  peacefulness  (accounting  the  inevitably  com- 
ing as  already  here,  to  him  all  one  whether  it  be  distant 
by  centuries  or  only  by  days),  does  he  sit; — -and  live,  you 
would  say,  rather  in  any  other  age  than  in  his  own!  It  is 


Chap.  VII.  ORGANIC  FILAMENTS.  189 

our  painful  duty  to  announce,  or  repeat,  that,  looking  into 
this  man,  we  discern  a deep,  silent,  slow-burning,  inextin- 
guishable Radicalism,  such  as  fills  us  with  shuddering  ad- 
miration. 

Thus,  for  example,  he  appears  to  make  little  even  of  the 
Elective  Franchise  ; at  least  so  we  interpret  the  following  : 
“ Satisfy  yourselves,”  he  says,  “ by  universal,  indubitable 
experiment,  even  as  ye  are  now  doing  or  will  do,  whether 
Freedom,  heaven-born  and  leading  heavenward,  and  so  vitally 
essential  for  us  all,  cannot  perad venture  be  mechanically 
hatched  and  brought  to  light  in  that  same  Ballot-Box  of  yours  ; 
or  at  worst,  in  some  other  discoverable  or  devisable  Box,  Edi- 
fice, or  Steam-mechanism.  It  were  a mighty  convenience  ; 
and  beyond  all  feats  of  manufacture  witnessed  hitherto.”  Is 
Teufelsdrockh  acquainted  with  the  British  Constitution,  even 
slightly  ? — He  says,  under  another  figure  : “ But  after  all, 
were  the  problem,  as  indeed  it  now  everywhere  is,  To  rebuild 
your  old  House  from  the  top  downwards  (since  you  must  live 
in  it  the  while),  what  better,  what  other,  than  the  Representa- 
tive Machine  will  serve  your  turn  ? Meanwhile,  however, 
mock  me  not  with  the  name  of  Free,  ‘ when  you  have  but 
knit  up  my  chains  into  ornamental  festoons.’  ” — Or  what  will 
any  member  of  the  Peace  Society  make  of  such  an  assertion 
as  this  : “ The  lower  people  everywhere  desire  War.  Hot  so 
unwisely;  there  is  then  a demand  for  lower  people  — tb  be 
shot ! ” 

Gladly,  therefore,  do  we  emerge  from  those  soul-confusing 
labyrinths  of  speculative  Radicalism,  into  somewhat  clearer 
regions.  Here,  looking  round,  as  was  our  hest,  for  “ organic 
filaments,”  we  ask,  may  not  this,  touching  “ Hero-worship,” 
be  of  the  number  ? It  seems  of  a cheerful  character ; yet 
so  quaint,  so  mystical,  one  knows  not  what,  or  how  little, 
may  lie  under  it.  Our  readers  shall  look  with  their  own 
eyes  : — 

“True  is  it  that,  in  these  days,  man  can  do  almost  all  things, 
only  not  obey.  True  likewise  that  whoso  cannot  obey  cannot 
be  free,  still  less  bear  rule  ; he  that  is  the  inferior  of  nothing, 
can  be  the  superior  of  nothing,  the  equal  of  nothing.  Never- 


190 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


theless,  believe  not  that  man  has  lost  his  faculty  of  Rever- 
ence ; that  if  it  slumber  in  him,  it  has  gone  dead.  Painful 
for  man  is  that  same  rebellious  Independence,  when  it  has 
become  inevitable;  only  in  loving  companionship  with  his 
fellows  does  he  feel  safe;  only  in  reverently  bowing  down 
before  the  Higher  does  he  feel  himself  exalted. 

“ Or  what  if  the  character  of  our  so  troublous  Era  lay  even 
in  this  : that  man  had  forever  cast  away  Fear,  which  is  the 
lower ; but  not  yet  risen  into  perennial  Reverence,  which  is 
the  higher  and  highest  ? 

“ Meanwhile,  observe  with  joy,  so  cunningly  has  Nature 
ordered  it,  that  whatsoever  man  ought  to  obey,  he  cannot  but 
obey.  Before  no  faintest  revelation  of  the  Godlike  did  he 
ever  stand  irreverent;  least  of  all,  when  the  Godlike  showed 
itself  revealed  in  his  fellow-man.  Thus  is  there  a true  re- 
ligious Loyalty  forever  rooted  in  his  heart ; nay  in  all  ages, 
even  in  ours,  it  manifests  itself  as  a more  or  less  orthodox 
Hero-worship.  In  which  fact,  that  Hero-worship  exists,  has 
existed,  and  will  forever  exist,  universally  among  Mankind, 
mayest  thou  discern  the  corner-stone  of  living  rock,  whereon 
all  Polities  for  the  remotest  time  may  stand  secure.” 

Do  our  readers  discern  any  such  corner-stone,  or  even  so 
much  as  what  Teufelsdrockh  is  looking  at?  He  exclaims, 
“ Or  hast  thou  forgotten  Paris  and  Voltaire  ? How  the  aged, 
withered  man,  though  but  a Sceptic,  Mocker,  and  millinery 
Court-poet,  yet  because  even  he  seemed  the  Wisest,  Best, 
could  drag  mankind  at  his  chariot-wheels,  so  that  princes  cov- 
eted a smile  from  him,  and  the  loveliest  of  France  would  have 
laid  their  hair  beneath  his  feet ! All  Paris  was  one  vast 
Temple  of  Hero-worship;  though  their  Divinity,  moreover, 
was  of  feature  too  apish. 

“ But  if  such  things,”  continues  he,  “ were  done  in  the  dry 
tree,  what  will  be  done  in  the  green  ? If,  in  the  most  parched 
season  of  Man’s  History,  in  the  most  parched  spot  of  Europe, 
when  Parisian  life  was  at  best  but  a scientific  Hortus  Siccus , 
bedizened  with  some  Italian  Gumflowers,  such  virtue  could 
come  out  of  it ; what  is  to  be  looked  for  when  Life  again 
waves  leafy  and  bloomy,  and  your  Hero-Divinity  shall  have 


Chap.  VII. 


ORGANIC  FILAMENTS. 


191 


nothing  apelike,  but  be  wholly  human  ? Know  that  there  is 
in  man  a quite  indestructible  Reverence  for  whatsoever  holds 
of  Heaven,  or  even  plausibly  counterfeits  such  holding.  Show 
the  dullest  clodpoll,  show  the  haughtiest  featherhead,  that  a 
soul  higher  than  himself  is  actually  here ; were  his  knees  stiff- 
ened into  brass,  he  must  down  and  worship.” 

Organic  filaments,  of  a more  authentic  sort,  mysteriously 
spinning  themselves,  some  will  perhaps  discover  in  the  follow- 
ing passage : — 

“ There  is  no  Church,  sayest  thou  ? The  voice  of  Prophecy 
has  gone  dumb  ? This  is  even  what  I dispute : but  in  any 
case,  hast  thou  not  still  Preaching  enough  ? A Preaching 
Friar  settles  himself  in  every  village;  and  builds  a pulpit, 
which  he  calls  Newspaper.  Therefrom  he  preaches  what  most 
momentous  doctrine  is  in  him,  for  man’s  salvation ; and  dost 
not  thou  listen,  and  believe  ? Look . well,  thou  seest  every- 
where a new  Clergy  of  the  Mendicant  Orders,  some  bare- 
footed, some  almost  bare-backed,  fashion  itself  into  shape,  and 
teach  and  preach,  zealously  enough,  for  copper  alms  and  the 
love  of  God.  These  break  in  pieces  the  ancient  idols ; and, 
though  themselves  too  often  reprobate,  as  idol-breakers  are 
wont  to  be,  mark  out  the  sites  of  new  Churches,  where  the 
true  God-ordained,  that  are  to  follow,  may  find  audience,  and 
minister.  Said  I.  not,  Before  the  old  skin  was  shed,  the  new 
had  formed  itself  beneath  it  ? ” 

Perhaps  also  in  the  following ; wherewith  we  now  hasten  to 
knit  up  this  ravelled  sleeve  : — 

“ But  there  is  no  Religion  ? ” reiterates  the  Professor.  “ Fool ! 
I tell  thee,  there  is.  Hast  thou  well  considered  all  that  lies  in 
this  immeasurable  froth-ocean  we  name  Literature  ? Frag- 
ments of  a genuine  Church-Ifornilefic  lie  scattered  there,  which 
Time  will  assort:  nay  fractions  even  of  a Liturgy  could  I 
point  out.  And  knowest  thou  no  Prophet,  even  in  the  vesture, 
environment,  and  dialect  of  this  age  ? None  to  whom  the 
Godlike  had  revealed  itself,  through  all  meanest  and  highest 
forms  of  the  Common ; and  by  him  been  again  prophetically 
revealed : in  whose  inspired  melody,  even  in  these  rag-gather- 
ing and  rag-burning  days,  Man’s  Life  again  begins,  were  it  but 


192 


SARTOR  RES  ART  US. 


Book  lit 


afar  off,  to  be  divine  ? Knowest  thou  none  such  ? I know 
him,  and  name  him  — Goethe. 

u But  thou  as  yet  standest  in  no  Temple ; joinest  in  no 
Psalm-worship ; feelest  well  that,  where  there  is  no  minister- 
ing Priest,  the  people  perish  ? Be  of  comfort ! Thou  art  not 
alone,  if  thou  have  Faith.  Spake  we  not  of  a Communion  of 
Saints,  unseen,  yet  not  unreal,  accompanying  and  brother-like 
embracing  thee,  so  thou  be  worthy  ? Their  heroic  Sufferings 
rise  up  melodiously  together  to  Heaven,  out  of  all  lands,  and 
out  of  all  times,  as  a sacred  Miserere ; their  heroic  Actions 
also,  as  a boundless  everlasting  Psalm  of  Triumph.  Neither 
say  that  thou  hast  now  no  Symbol  of  the  Godlike.  Is  not 
God’s  Universe  a Symbol  of  the  Godlike ; is  not  Immensity 
a Temple ; is  not  Man’s  History,  and  Men’s  History,  a per- 
petual Evangel  ? Listen,  and  for  organ-music  thou  wilt  ever, 
as  of  old,  hear  the  Morning  Stars  sing  together.” 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM. 

It  is  in  his  stupendous  Section,  headed  Natural  Supernatu - 
ralism,  that  the  Professor  first  becomes  a Seer ; and,  after  long 
effort,  such  as  we  have  witnessed,  finally  subdues  under  his 
feet  this  refractory  Clothes-Philosophy,  and  takes  victorious 
possession  thereof.  Phantasms  enough  he  has  had  to  struggle 
with  ; “ Cloth-webs  and  Cob-webs,”  of  Imperial  Mantles,  Super- 
annuated Symbols,  and  what  not : yet  still  did  he  courageously 
pierce  through.  Nay,  worst  of  all,  two  quite  mysterious,  world- 
embracing Phantasms,  Time  and  Space,  have  ever  hovered 
round  him,  perplexing  and  bewildering : but  with  these  also 
he  now  resolutely  grapples,  these  also  he  victoriously  rends 
asunder.  In  a word,  he  has  looked  fixedly  on  Existence,  till, 
one  after  the  other,  its  earthly  hulls  and  garnitures  have  all 
melted  away ; and  now,  to  his  rapt  vision,  the  interior  celestial 
Holy-of-Holies  lies  disclosed. 


Chap.  viii.  NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM. 


193 


Here,  therefore,  properly  it  is  that  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes 
attains  to  Transcendentalism  ; this  last  leap,  can  we  but  clear 
it,  takes  us  safe  into  the  promised  land,  where  Palingenesia , in 
all  senses,  may  be  considered  as  beginning.  “ Courage,  then  ! ” 
may  our  Diogenes  exclaim,  with  better  right  than  Diogenes  the 
First  once  did.  Tips  stupendous  Section  we,  after  long  pain- 
ful meditation,  have  found  not  to  be  unintelligible;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  to  grow  clear,  nay  radiant,  and  all-illuminating. 
Let  the  reader,  turning  on  it  what  utmost  force  of  speculative 
intellect  is  in  him,  do  his  part;  as  we,  by  judicious  selection 
and  adjustment,  shall  study  to  do  ours : — 

“Deep  has  been,  and  is,  the  significance  of  Miracles,”  thus 
quietly  begins  the  Professor;  “far  deeper  perhaps  than  we 
imagine.  Meanwhile,  the  question  of  questions  were : What 
specially  is  a Miracle  ? To  that  Dutch  King  of  Siam,  an  icicle 
had  been  a miracle ; whoso  had  carried  with  him  an  air-pump, 
and  vial  of  vitriolic  ether,  might  have  worked  a miracle.  To 
my  Horse,  again,  who  unhappily  is  still  more  unscientific,  do 
not  I work  a miracle,  and  magical  ‘ Open  sesame  ! 9 every  time 
I please  to  pay  twopence,  and  open  for  him  an  impassable 
Schlagbaum , or  shut  Turnpike  ? 

“ ‘ But  is  net  a real  Miracle  sirfiply  a violation  of  the  Laws 
of  Nature  ? 9 ask  several.  Whom  I answer  by  this  new  ques- 
tion: What* are  the  Laws  of  Nature?  To  me  perhaps  the 
rising  of  one  from  the  dead  were  no  violation  of  these  Laws, 
but  a confirmation ; were  some  far  deeper  Law,  now  first  pene- 
trated into,  and  by  Spiritual  Force,  even  as  the  rest  have  all 
been,  brought  to  bear  on  us  with  its  Material  Force. 

“Here  too  may  some  inquire,  not  without  astonishment: 
On  what  ground  shall  one,  that  can  make  Iron  swim,  come  and 
declare  that  therefore  ho  can  teach  Religion  ? To  us,  truly,  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century,  such  declaration  were  inept  enough ; 
which  nevertheless  to  our  fathers,  of  the  First  Century,  was 
full  of  meaning. 

“ ‘ But  is  it  not  the  deepest  Law  of  Nature  that  she  be  con- 
stant ? ’ cries  an  illuminated  class : ‘ Is  not  the  Machine  of 
the  Universe  fixed  to  move  by  unalterable  rules  ? 9 Probable 
enough,  good  friends : nay  I,  too,  must  believe  that  the  God, 
VOL.  i.  13 


194 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


whom  ancient  inspired  men  assert  to  be  ‘ without  variableness 
or  shadow  of  turning/  does  indeed  never  change  ; that  Nature, 
that  the  Universe,  which  no  one  whom  it  so  pleases  can  be  pre- 
vented from  calling  a Machine,  does  move  by  the  most  unalter- 
able rules.  And  now  of  you,  too,  I make  the  old  inquiry : 
What  those  same  unalterable  rules,  forming  the  complete 
Statute-Book  of  Nature,  may  possibly  be  ? 

“They  stand  written  in  our  Works  of  Science,  say  you;  in 
the  accumulated  records  of  Man’s  Experience  ? — Was  Man 
with  his  Experience  present  at  the  Creation,  then,  to  see  how 
it  all  went  on  ? Have  any  deepest  scientific  individuals  yet 
dived  down  to  the  foundations  of  the  Universe,  and  gauged 
everything  there  ? Did  the  Maker  take  them  into  His  counsel ; 
that  they  read  His  ground-plan  of  the  incomprehensible  All ; 
and  can  say,  This  stands  marked  therein,  and  no  more  than 
this  ? Alas,  not  in  anywise  ! These  scientific  individuals  have 
been  nowhere  but  where  we  also  are ; have  seen  some  hand- 
breadths  deeper  than  we  see  into  the  Deep  that  is  infinite, 
without  bottom  as  without  shore. 

“ Laplace’s  Book  on  the  Stars,  wherein  he  exhibits  that  cer- 
tain Planets,  with  their  Satellites,  gyrate  round  our  worthy 
Sun,  at  a rate  and  in  a course,  which,  by  greatest  good  fortune, 
he  and  the  like  of  him  have  succeeded  in  detecting,  — is  to 
me  as  precious  as  to  another.  But  is  this  what  thou  namest 
‘Mechanism  of  the  Heavens/  and  ‘System  of  the  World;’ 
this,  wherein  Sirius  and  the  Pleiades,  and  all  Herschel’s  Eif- 
teen  thousand  Suns  per  minute,  being  left  out,  some  paltry 
handful  of  Moons,  and  inert  Balls,  had  been  — looked  at,  nick- 
named, and  marked  in  the  Zodiacal  Way-bill ; so  that  we  can 
now  prate  of  their  Whereabout ; their  How,  their  Why,  their 
What,  being  hid  from  us,  as  in  the  signless  Inane  ? 

“ System  of  Nature ! To  the  wisest  man,  wide  as  is  his 
vision,  Nature  remains  of  quite  infinite  depth,  of  quite  infinite 
expansion ; and  all  Experience  thereof  limits  itself  to  some 
few  computed  centuries  and  measured  square-miles.  The 
course  of  Nature’s  phases,  on  this  our  little  fraction  of  a 
Planet,  is  partially  known  to  us  : but  who  knows  what  deeper 
courses  these  depend  on ; what  infinitely  larger  Cycle  (of 


Chap.  VIII. 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM. 


195 


causes)  our  little  Epicycle  revolves  on  ? To  the  Minnow 
every  cranny  and  pebble,  and  quality  and  accident,  of  its 
little  native  Creek  may  have  become  familiar : but  does  the 
Minnow  understand  the  Ocean  Tides  and  periodic  Currents, 
the  Trade-winds,  and  Monsoons,  and  Moon’s  Eclipses ; by  all 
which  the  condition  of  its  little  Creek  is  regulated,  and  may, 
from  time  to  time  (^miraculously  enough),  be  quite  overset 
and  reversed  ? Such  a minnow  is  Man  ; his  Creek  this  Planet 
Earth ; his  Ocean  the  immeasurable  All ; his  Monsoons  and 
periodic  Currents  the  mysterious  Course  of  Providence  through 
iEons  of  ^Eons. 

"We  speak  of  the  Volume  of  Nature  : and  truly  a Volume 
it  is,  — whose  Author  and  W riter  is  God.  To  read  it ! Dost 
thou,  does  man,  so  much  as  well  know  the  Alphabet  thereof  ? 
With  its  Words,  Sentences,  and  grand  descriptive  Pages,  poeti- 
cal and  philosophical,  spread  out  through  Solar  Systems,  and 
Thousands  of  Years,  we  shall  not  try  thee.  It  is  a Volume 
written  in  celestial  hieroglyphs,  in  the  true  Sacred-writing ; 
of  which  even  Prophets  are  happy  that  they  can  read  here  a 
line  and  there  a line.  As  for  your  Institutes,  and  Academies 
of  Science,  they  strive  bravely;  and,  from  amid  the  thick- 
crowded,  inextricably  intertwisted  hieroglyphic  writing,  pick 
out,  by  dexterous  combination,  some  Letters  in  the  vulgar  Char- 
acter, and  therefrom  put  together  this  and  the  other  economic 
Recipe,  of  high  avail  in  Practice.  That  Nature  is  more  than 
some  boundless  Volume  of  such  Recipes,  or  huge,  well-nigh 
inexhaustible  Domestic-Cookery  Book,  of  which  the  whole 
secret  will  in  this  manner  one  day  evolve  itself,  the  fewest 
dream. 

“ Custom,”  continues  the  Professor,  “ doth  make  dotards  of 
us  all.  Consider  well,  thou  wilt  find  that  Custom  is  the  great- 
est of  Weavers  ; and  weaves  air-raiment  for  all  the  Spirits  of 
the  Universe ; whereby  indeed  these  dwell  with  us  visibly,  as 
ministering  servants,  in  our  houses  and  workshops ; but  their 
spiritual  nature  becomes,  to  the  most,  forever  hidden.  Phi- 
losophy complains  that  Custom  has  hoodwinked  us,  from  the 
first ; that  we  do  everything  by  Custom,  even  Believe  by  it ; 


196 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


that  our  very  Axioms,  let  us  boast  of  Free-thinking  as  we  may, 
are  oftenest  simply  such  Beliefs  as  we  have  never  heard  ques- 
tioned. Nay,  what  is  Philosophy  throughout  but  a continual 
battle  against  Custom  ; an  ever-renewed  effort  to  transcend  the 
sphere  of  blind  Custom,  and  so  become  Transcendental  ? 

“ Innumerable  are  the  illusions  and  legerdemain-tricks  of 
Custom  : but  of  all  these,  perhaps  the  cleverest  is  her  knack 
of  persuading  us  that  the  Miraculous,  by  simple  repetition, 
ceases  to  be  Miraculous.  True,  it  is  by  this  means  we  live  ; 
for  man  must  work  as  well  as  wonder : and  herein  is  Custom 
so  far  a kind  nurse,  guiding  him  to  his  true  benefit.  But  she 
is  a fond  foolish  nurse,  or  rather  we  are  false  foolish  nurs- 
lings, when,  in  our  resting  and  reflecting  hours,  we  prolong 
the  same  deception.  Am  I to  view  the  Stupendous  with 
stupid  indifference,  because  I have  seen  it  twice,  or  two 
hundred,  or  two  million  times  ? There  is  no  reason  in  Nature 
or  in  Art  why  I should:  unless,  indeed,  I am  a mere  Work- 
Machine,  for  whom  the  divine  gift  of  Thought  were  no  other 
than  the  terrestrial  gift  of  Steam  is  to  the  Steam-engine ; a 
power  whereby  cotton  might  be  spun,  and  money  and  money’s 
worth  realized. 

“ Notable  enough  too,  here  as  elsewhere,  wilt  thou  find  the 
potency  of  Names ; which  indeed  are  but  one  kind  of  such 
custom-woven,  wonder-hiding  G-arments.  Witchcraft,  and  all 
manner  of  Spectre-work,  and  Demonology,  we  have  now  named 
Madness,  and  Diseases  of  the  Nerves.  Seldom  reflecting  that 
still  the  new  question  comes  upon  us  : What  is  Madness,  what 
are  Nerves?  Ever,  as  before,  does  Madness  remain  a mys- 
terious-terrific, altogether  infernal  boiling-up  of  the  Nether 
Chaotic  Deep,  through  this  fair-painted  Vision  of  Creation, 
which  swims  thereon,  which  we  name  the  Real.  Was  Luther’s 
Picture  of  the  Devil  less  a Reality,  whether  it  were  formed 
within  the  bodily  eye,  or  without  it  ? In  every  the  wisest 
Soul  lies  a whole  world  of  internal  Madness,  an  authentic 
Demon-Empire ; out  of  which,  indeed,  his  world  of  Wisdom 
has  been  creatively  built  together,  and  now  rests  there,  as 
on  its  dark  foundations  does  a habitable  flowery  Earth- 
rind. 


Chap.  VIII. 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM. 


197 


“ But  deepest  of  all  illusory  Appearances,  for  hiding  Won- 
der, as  for  many  other  ends,  are  your  two  grand  fundamental 
world-enveloping  Appearances,  Space  and  Time.  These,  as 
spun  and  woven  for  us  from  before  Birth  itself,  to  clothe  our 
celestial  Me  for  dwelling  here,  and  yet  to  blind  it,  — lie  all- 
embracing,  as  the  universal  canvas,  or  warp  and  woof,  whereby 
all  minor  Illusions,  in  this  Phantasm  Existence,  weave  and 
paint  themselves.  In  vain,  while  here  on  Earth,  shall  you 
endeavor  to  strip  them  off ; you  can,  at  best,  but  rend  them 
asunder  for  moments,  and  look  through. 

“Fortunatus  had  a wishing  Hat,  which  when  he  put  on, 
and  wished  himself  Anywhere,  behold  he  was  There.  By  this 
means  had  Fortunatus  triumphed  over  Space,  he  had  annihi- 
lated Space ; for  him  there  was  no  Where,  but  all  was  Here. 
Were  a Hatter  to  establish  himself,  in  the  Wahngasse  of 
Weissnichtwo,  and  make  felts  of  this  sort  for  all  mankind, 
what  a world  we  should  have  of  it ! Still  stranger,  should, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  another  Hatter  establish 
himself ; and,  as  his  fellow-craftsman  made  Space-annihilating 
Hats,  make  Time-annihilating  ! Of  both  would  I purchase, 
were  it  with  my  last  groschen ; but  chiefly  of  this  latter.  To 
clap  on  your  felt,  and,  simply  by  wishing  that  you  were  Any- 
where,  straightway  to  be  There  ! Next  to  clap  on  your  other 
felt,  and,  simply  by  wishing  that  you  were  Any  when,  straight- 
way to  be  Then ! This  were  indeed  the  grander : shooting 
at  will  from  the  Fire-Creation  of  the  World  to  its  Fire-Con- 
summation; here  historically  present  in  the  First  Century, 
conversing  face  to  face  with  Paul  and  Seneca ; there  propheti- 
cally in  the  Thirty-first,  conversing  also  face  to  face  with 
other  Pauls  and  Senecas,  who  as  yet  stand  hidden  in  the  depth 
of  that  late  Time  ! * 

“ Or  thinkest  thou  it  were  impossible,  unimaginable  ? Is 
the  Past  annihilated,  then,  or  only  past ; is  the  Future  non- 
extant,  or  only  future  ? Those  mystic  faculties  of  thine, 
Memory  and  Hope,  already  answer : already  through  those 
mystic  avenues,  thou  the  Earth-blinded  summonest  both  Past 
and  Future,  and  communest  with  them,  though  as  yet  darkly, 
and  with  mute  beckonings.  The  curtains  of  Yesterday  drop 


198 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III 


down,  the  curtains  of  To-morrow  roll  up ; but  Yesterday  and 
To-morrow  both  are.  Pierce  through  the  Time-element,  glance 
into  the  Eternal.  Believe  what  thou  findest  written  in  the 
sanctuaries  of  Man’s  Soul,  even  as  all  Thinkers,  in  all  ages, 
have  devoutly  read  it  there : that  Time  and  Space  are  not  God, 
but  creations  of  God  ; that  with  God  as  it  is  a universal 
Here,  so  is  it  an  everlasting  Now. 

“ And  seest  thou  therein  any  glimpse  of  Immortality  ? — 
O Heaven ! Is  the  white  Tomb  of  our  Loved  One,  who  died 
from  our  arms,  and  had  to  be  left  behind  us  there,  which  rises 
in  the  distance,  like  a pale,  mournfully  receding  Milestone,  to 
tell  how  many  toilsome  uncheered  miles  we  have  journeyed 
on  alone,  — but  a pale  spectral  Illusion  ! Is  the  lost  Friend 
still  mysteriously  Here,  even  as  we  are  Here  mysteriously, 
with  God  ! — Know  of  a truth  that  only  the  Time-shadows 
have  perished,  or  are  perishable  ; that  the  real  Being  of  what- 
ever was,  and  whatever  is,  and  whatever  will  be,  is  even  now 
and  forever.  This,  should  it  unhappily  seem  new,  thou  mayest 
ponder  at  thy  leisure ; for  the  next  twenty  years,  or  the  next 
twenty  centuries  : believe  it  thou  must ; understand  it  thou 
canst  not. 

“That  the  Thought-forms,  Space  and  Time,  wherein,  once 
for  all,  we  are  sent  into  this  Earth  to  live,  should  condition 
and  determine  our  whole  Practical  reasonings,  conceptions, 
and  imagings  or  imaginings,  seems  altogether  fit,  just,  and 
unavoidable.  But  that  they  should,  furthermore,  usurp  such 
sway  over  pure  spiritual  Meditation,  and  blind  us  to  the 
wonder  everywhere  lying  close  on  us,  seems  nowise  so.  Ad- 
mit Space  and  Time  to  their  due  rank  as  Forms  of  Thought ; 
nay  even,  if  thou  wilt,  to  their  quite  undue  rank  of  Realities : 
and  consider,  then,  with  thyself  how  their  thin  disguises  hide 
from  us  the  brightest  God-effulgences  ! Thus,  were  it  not 
miraculous,  could  I stretch  forth  my  hand  and  clutch  the 
Sun  ? Yet  thou  seest  me  daily  stretch  forth  my  hand  and 
therewith  clutch  many  a thing,  and  swing  it  hither  and  thither. 
Art  thou  a grown  baby,  then,  to  fancy  that  the  Miracle  lies  in 
miles  of  distance,  or  in  pounds  avoirdupois  of  weight ; and  not 
to  see  that  the  true  inexplicable  God-revealing  Miracle  lies  m 


chap.  VIII.  NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM. 


199 


tli is,  that  I can  stretch  forth  my  hand  at  all;  that  I have  free 
Force  to  clutch  aught  therewith  ? Innumerable  other  of  this 
sort  are  the  deceptions,  and  wonder-hiding  stupefactions,  which 
Space  practises  on  us. 

“Still  worse  is  it  with  regard  to  Time.  Your  grand  anti- 
magician, and  universal  wonder-hider,  is  this  same  lying 
Time.  Had  we  but  the  Time-annihilating  Hat,  to  put  on  for 
once,  only,  we  should  see  ourselves  in  a World  of  Miracles, 
wherein  all  fabled  or  authentic  Thaumaturgy,  and  feats  of 
Magic,  were  outdone.  But  unhappily  we  have  not  such  a 
Hat ; and  man,  poor  fool  that  he  is,  can  seldom  and  scantily 
help  himself  without  one. 

“Were  it  not  wonderful,  for  instance,  had  Orpheus,  or 
Amphion,  built  the  walls  of  Thebes  by  the  mere  sound  of  his 
Lyre  ? Yet  tell  me,  Who  built  these  walls  of  Weissnichtwo  ; 
summoning  out  all  the  sandstone  rocks,  to  dance  along  from 
the  Steinbruch  (now  a huge  Troglodyte  Chasm,  with  frightful 
green-mantled  pools)  ; and  shape  themselves  into  Doric  and 
Ionic  pillars,  squared  ashlar  houses  and  noble  streets  ? Was 
it  not  the  still  higher  Orpheus,  or  Orpheuses,  who,  in  past 
centuries,  by  the  divine  Music  of  Wisdom,  succeeded  in  civiliz- 
ing Man  ? Our  highest  Orpheus  walked  in  Judea,  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago : his  sphere-melody,  flowing  in  wild  native 
tones,  took  captive  the  ravished  souls  of  men  ; and,  being  of  a 
truth  sphere-melody,  still  flows  and  sounds,  though  now  with 
thousand-fold  accompaniments,  and  rich  symphonies,  through 
all  our  hearts ; and  modulates,  and  divinely  leads  them.  Is 
that  a wonder,  which  happens  in  two  hours  ; and  does  it  cease 
to  be  wonderful  if  happening  in  two  million?  Not  only  was 
Thebes  built  by  the  music  of  an  Orpheus  ; but  without  the 
music  of  some  inspired  Orpheus  was  no  city  ever  built,  no 
work  that  man  glories  in  ever  done. 

“ Sweep  away  the  Illusion  of  Time  ; glance,  if  thou  have 
eyes,  from  the  near  moving-cause  to  its  far  distant  Mover : 
The  stroke  that  came  transmitted  through  a whole  galaxy  of 
elastic  balls,  was  it  less  a stroke  than  if  the  last  ball  only  had 
been  struck,  and  sent  flying?  Oh,  could  I (with  the  Time- 
annihilating  Hat)  transport  thee  direct  from  the  Beginnings 


200 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


to  the  Endings,  how  were  thy  eyesight  unsealed,  and  thy  heart 
set  flaming  in  the  Light-sea  of  celestial  wonder ! Then 
sawest  thou  that  this  fair  Universe,  were  it  in  the  meanest 
province  thereof,  is  in  very  deed  the  star-domed  City  of  God; 
that  through  every  star,  through  every  grass-blade,  and  most 
through  every  Living  Soul,  the  glory  of  a present  God  still 
beams.  But  Nature,  which  is  the  Time-vesture  of  God,  and 
reveals  Him  to  the  wise,  hides  Him  from  the  foolish. 

“ Again,  could  anything  be  more  miraculous  than  an  actual 
authentic  Ghost  ? The  English  J ohnson  longed,  all  his  life, 
to  see  one ; but  could  not,  though  he  went  to  Cock  Lane,  and 
thence  to  the  church-vaults,  and  tapped  on  coffins.  Foolish 
Doctor  ! Did  he  never,  with  the  mind’s  eye  as  well  as  with 
the  body’s,  look  round  him  into  that  full  tide  of  human  Life 
he  so  loved ; did  he  never  so  much  as  look  into  Himself  ? 
The  good  Doctor  was  a Ghost,  as  actual  and  authentic  as 
heart  could  wish ; well-nigh  a million  of  Ghosts  were  travel- 
ling the  streets  by  his  side.  Once  more  I say,  sweep  away 
the  illusion  of  Time ; compress  the  threescore  years  into  three 
minutes : what  else  was  he,  what  else  are  we  ? Are  we  not 
Spirits,  that  are  shaped  into  a body,  into  an  Appearance ; and 
that  fade  away  again  into  air  and  Invisibility  ? This  is  no 
metaphor,  it  is  a simple  scientific  fact : we  start  out  of  Noth- 
ingness, take  figure,  and  are  Apparitions ; round  us,  as  round 
the  veriest  spectre,  is  Eternity ; and  to  Eternity  minutes  are  as 
years  and  aeons.  Come  there  not  tones  of  Love  and  Faith,  as 
from  celestial  harp-strings,  like  the  Song  of  beatified  Souls  ? 
And  again,  do  not  we  squeak  and  gibber  (in  our  discordant, 
screech-owlish  debatings  and  recriminatings)  ; and  glide  bode- 
ful, and  feeble,  and  fearful ; or  uproar  ( jpoltem ),  and  revel  in 
our  mad  Dance  of  the  Dead,  — till  the  scent  of  the  morning 
air  summons  us  to  our  still  Home ; and  dreamy  Night  becomes 
awake  and  Day  ? Where  now  is  Alexander  of  Macedon  : does 
the  steel  Host,  that  yelled  in  fierce  battle-shouts  at  Issus  and 
Arbela,  remain  behind  him ; or  have  they  all  vanished  utterly, 
even  as  perturbed  Goblins  must  ? Napoleon  too,  and  his 
Moscow  Retreats  and  Austerlitz  Campaigns ! Was  it  all 
other  than  the  veriest  Spectre-hunt ; which  has  now,  with  its 


Chap.  VIII.  NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM. 


201 


howling  tumult  that  made  Night  hideous,  flitted  away  ? — 
Ghosts  ! There  are  nigh  a thousand  million  walking  the 
Earth  openly  at  noontide ; some  half-hundred  have  vanished 
from  it,  some  half-hundred  have  arisen  in  it,  ere  thy  watch 
ticks  once. 

“0  Heaven,  it  is  mysterious,  it  is  awful  to  consider  that  we 
not  only  carry  each  a future  Ghost  within  him ; but  are,  in 
very  deed,  Ghosts  ! These  Limbs,  whence  had  we  them ; this 
stormy  Force  ; this  life-blood  with  its  burning  Passion  ? They 
are  dust  and  shadow;  a Shadow-system  gathered  round  our 
Me  : wherein,  through  some  moments  or  years,  the  Divine 
Essence  is  to  be  revealed  in  the  Flesh.  That  warrior  on  his 
strong  war-horse,  fire  flashes  through  his  eyes ; force  dwells  in 
his  arm  and  heart : but  warrior  and  war-horse  are  a vision ; a 
revealed  Force,  nothing  more.  Stately  they  tread  the  Earth, 
as  if  it  were  a firm  substance  : fool ! the  Earth  is  but  a film ; 
it  cracks  in  twain,  and  warrior  and  war-horse  sink  beyond 
plummet’s  sounding.  Plummet’s  ? Fantasy  herself  will  not  fol- 
low them.  A little  while  ago,  they  were  not ; a little  while, 
and  they  are  not,  their  very  ashes  are  not. 

“ So  has  it  been  from  the  beginning,  so  will  it  be  to  the  end. 
Generation  after  generation  takes  to  itself  the  Form  of  a Body ; 
and  forth  issuing  from  Cimmerian  Night,  on  Heaven’s  mission 
appears.  What  Force  and  Fire  is  in  each  he  expends : one 
grinding  in  the  mill  of  Industry ; one  hunter-like  climbing  the 
giddy  Alpine  heights  of  Science ; one  madly  dashed  in  pieces 
on  the  rocks  of  Strife,  in  war  with  his  fellow  : — and  then  the 
Heaven-sent  is  recalled;  his  earthly  Vesture  falls  away,  and 
soon  even  to  Sense  becomes  a vanished  Shadow.  Thus,  like 
some  wild-flaming,  wild-thundering  train  of  Heaven’s  Artillery, 
does  this  mysterious  Mankind  thunder  and  flame,  in  long- 
drawn,  quick-succeeding  grandeur,  through  the  unknown  Deep. 
Thus,  like  a God-created,  fire-breathing  Spirit-host,  we  emerge 
from  the  Inane ; haste  storm  fully  across  the  astonished  Earth ; 
then  plunge  again  into  the  Inane.  Earth’s  mountains  are  lev- 
elled, and  her  seas  filled  up,  in  our  passage  : can  the  Earth, 
which  is  but  dead  and  a vision,  resist  Spirits  which  have 
reality  and  are  alive?  On  the  hardest  adamant  some  foot- 


202 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


print  of  us  is  stamped  in;  the  last  Eear  of  the  host  will 
read  traces  of  the  earliest  Van.  But  whence  ? - — 0 Heaven, 
whither  ? Sense  knows  not ; Faith  knows  not ; only  that  it 
is  through  Mystery  to  Mystery,  from  God  and  to  God. 

1 We  are  such  stuff1 

As  Dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  Life 
Is  rounded  with  a sleep  ! ’ ” 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CIRCUMSPECTIVE. 

Here,  then,  arises  the  so  momentous  question : Have  many 
British  Readers  actually  arrived  with  us  at  the  new  promised 
country;  is  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  now  at  last  opening 
around  them  ? Long  and  adventurous  has  the  journey  been  : 
from  those  outmost  vulgar,  palpable  Woollen  Hulls  of  Man ; 
through  his  wondrous  Flesh-Garments,  and  his  wondrous  Social 
Garnitures ; inwards  to  the  Garments  of  his  very  SouPs  Soul, 
to  Time  and  Space  themselves  ! And  now  does  the  spiritual, 
eternal  Essence  of  Man,  and  of  Mankind,  bared  of  such  wrap- 
pages, begin  in  any  measure  to  reveal  itself  ? Can  many 
readers  discern,  as  through  a glass  darkly,  in  huge  wavering 
outlines,  some  primeval  rudiments  of . Man’s  Being,  what  is 
changeable  divided  from  what  is  unchangeable  ? Does  that 
Earth-Spirit’s  speech  in  Faust,  — 

“ ’T  is  thus  at  the  roaring  Loom  of  Time  I ply, 

And  weave  for  God  the  Garment  thou  seest  Him  by ; ” 

or  that  other  thousand-times  repeated  speech  of  the  Magician, 
Shakspeare,  — 

“ And  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision, 

The  cloud-capt  Towers,  the  gorgeous  Palaces, 

The  solemn  Temples,  the  great  Globe  itself, 

And  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve ; 

And  like  this  unsubstantial  pageant  faded, 

Leave  not  a wrack  behind ; ” 


Chap.  IX. 


CIRCUMSPECTIVE. 


203 


begin  to  have  some  meaning  for  ns  ? In  a word,  do  we  at 
length  stand  safe  in  the  far  region  of  Poetic  Creation  and 
Palingenesia,  where  that  Phoenix  Death-Birth  of  Human 
Society;  and  of  all  Human  Things,  appears  possible,  is  seen 
to  be  inevitable  ? 

Along  this  most  insufficient,  unheard-of  Bridge,  which  the 
Editor,  by  Heaven’s  blessing,  has  now  seen  himself  enabled 
to  conclude  if  not  complete,  it  cannot  be  his  sober  calculation, 
but  only  his  fond  hope,  that  many  have  travelled  without  ac- 
cident. No  firm  arch,  overspanning  the  Impassable  with  paved 
highway,  could  the  Editor  construct.;  only,  as  was  said,  some 
zigzag  series  of  rafts  floating  tumultuously  thereon.  Alas, 
and  the  leaps  from  raft  to  raft  were  too  often  of  a breakneck 
character ; the  darkness,  the  nature  of  the  element,  all  was 
against  us  ! 

Nevertheless,  may  not  here  and  there  one  of  a thousand, 
provided  with  a discursiveness  of  intellect  rare  in  our  day, 
have  cleared  the  passage,  in  spite  of  all  ? Happy  few ! little 
band  of  Friends ! be  welcome,  be  of  courage.  By  degrees, 
the  eye  grows  accustomed  to  its  new  Whereabout ; the  hand 
can  stretch  itself  forth  to  work  there : it  is  in  this  grand  and 
indeed  highest  work  of  Palingenesia  that  ye  shall  labor,  each 
according  to  ability.  New  laborers  will  arrive ; new  Bridges 
will  be  built ; nay,  may  not  our  own  poor  rope-and-raft  Bridge, 
in  your  passings  and  repassings,  be  mended  in  many  a point, 
till  it  grow  quite  firm,  passable  even  for  the  halt  ? 

Meanwhile,  of  the  innumerably  multitude  that  started  with 
us,  joyous  and  full  of  hope,  where  now  is  the  innumerable  re- 
mainder, whom  we  see  no  longer  by  our  side  ? The  most  have 
recoiled,  and  stand  gazing  afar  off,  in  unsympathetic  astonish- 
ment, at  our  career : not  a few,  pressing  forward  with  more 
courage,  have  missed  footing,  or  leaped  short ; and  now  swim 
weltering  in  the  Chaos-flood,  some  towards  this  shore,  some 
towards  that.  To  these  also  a helping  hand  should  be  held 
out ; at  least  some  word  of  encouragement  be  said. 

Or,  to  speak  without  metaphor,  with  which  mode  of  utter- 
ance Teufelsdroekh  unhappily  has  somewhat  infected  us, — 
can  it  be  hidden  from  the  Editor  that  many  a British  Header 


2C4 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


sits  reading  quite  bewildered  in  head,  and  afflicted  rather  than 
instructed  by  the  present  Work?  Yes,  long  ago  has  many  a 
British  Reader  been,  as  now,  demanding  with  something  like 
a snarl : Whereto  does  all  this  lead ; or  what  use  is  in  it  ? 

In  the  way  of  replenishing  thy  purse,  or  otherwise  aiding 
thy  digestive  faculty,  0 British  Reader,  it  leads  to  nothing, 
and  there  is  no  use  in  it ; but  rather  the  reverse,  for  it  costs 
thee  somewhat.  Nevertheless,  if  through  this  unpromising 
Horn-gate,  Teufelsdtockh,  and  we  by  means  of  him,  have  led 
thee  into  the  true  Land  of  Dreams  ; and  through  the  Ciothes- 
Screen,  as  through  a magical  Piert'e-Pertuis , thou  lookest,  even 
for  moments,  into  the  region  of  the  Wonderful,  and  seest  and 
feelest  that  thy  daily  life  is  girt  with  Wonder,  and  based  on 
Wonder,  and  thy  very  blankets  and  breeches  are  Miracles,  — 
then  art  thou  profited  beyond  money’s  worth;  and  hast  a 
thankfulness  towards  our  Professor ; nay,  perhaps  in  many  a 
literary  Tea-circle  wilt  open  thy  kind  lips,  and  audibly  express 
that  same. 

Nay  farther,  art  not  thou  too  perhaps  by  this  time  made 
aware  that  all  Symbols  are  properly  Clothes ; that  all  Forms 
whereby  Spirit  manifests  itself  to  sense,  whether  outwardly 
or  in  the  imagination,  are  Clothes ; and  thus  not  only  the 
parchment  Magna  Charta,  which  a Tailor  was  nigh  cutting 
into  measures,  but  the  Pomp  and  Authority  of  Law,  the  sacred- 
ness of  Majesty,  and  all  inferior  Worships  (Worth-ships)  are 
properly  a Vesture  and  Raiment ; and  the  Thirty-nine  Articles 
themselves  are  articles  of  wearing-apparel  (for  the  Religious 
Idea)  ? In  which  case,  must  it  not  also  be  admitted  that  this 
Science  of  Clothes  is  a high  one,  and  may  with  infinitely 
deeper  study  on  thy  part  yield  richer  fruit:  that  it  takes 
scientific  rank  beside  Codification,  and  Political  Economy,  and 
the  Theory  of  the  British  Constitution ; nay  rather,  from  its 
prophetic  height  looks  down  on  all  these,  as  on  so  many 
weaving-shops  and  spinning-mills,  where  the  Vestures  which 
it  has  to  fashion,  and  consecrate,  and  distribute,  are,  too  often 
by  haggard  hungry  operatives  who  see  no  farther  than  their 
nose,  mechanically  woven  and  spun? 

But  omitting  all  this,  much  more  all  that  concerns  Natural 


Chap.  X. 


THE  DANDIACAL  BODY. 


205 


Supernaturalism,  and  indeed  whatever  has  reference  to  the 
Ulterior  or  Transcendental  portion  of  the  Science,  or  bears 
never  so  remotely  on  that  promised  Volume  of  the  Palin  gene- 
sie  der  menschlichen  Gesellschaft  (Newbirth  of  Society),  — we 
humbly  suggest  that  no  province  of  Clothes-Philosophy,  even 
the  lowest,  is  without  its  direct  value,  but  that  innumerable 
inferences  of  a practical  nature  may  be  drawn  therefrom.  To 
say  nothing  of  those  pregnant  considerations,  ethical,  political, 
symbolical,  which  crowd  on  the  Olothes-Philosopher  from  the 
very  threshold  of  his  Science ; nothing  even  of  those  u archi- 
tectural ideas,”  which,  as  we  have  seen,  lurk  at  the  bottom  of 
all  Modes,  and  will  one  day,  better  unfolding  themselves,  lead 
to  important  revolutions,  — let  us  glance  for  a moment,  and 
with  the  faintest  light  of  Clothes-Philosophy,  on  what  may  be 
called  the  Habilatory  Class  of  our  fellow-men.  Plere  too  over- 
looking, where  so  much  were  to  be  looked  on,  the  million 
spinners,  weavers,  fullers,  dyers,  washers,  and  wringers,  that 
puddle  and  muddle  in  their  dark  recesses,  to  make  us  Clothes, 
and  die  that  we  may  live,  — let  us  but  turn  the  reader’s  atten- 
tion upon  two  small  divisions  of  mankind,  who,  like  moths,  may 
be  regarded  as  Cloth-animals,  creatures  that  live,  move  and 
have  their  being  in  Cloth  : we  mean,  Dandies  and  Tailors. 

In  regard  to  both  which  small  divisions  it  may  be  asserted 
without  scruple,  that  the  public  feeling,  unenlightened  by  Phi- 
losophy, is  at  fault ; and  even  that  the  dictates  of  humanity 
are  violated.  As  will  perhaps  abundantly  appear  to  readers 
of  the  two  following  Chapters. 


CHAPTEP  X. 

THE  DANDIACAL  BODY. 

First,  touching  Dandies,  let  us  consider,  with  some  scientific 
strictness,  what  a Dandy  specially  is.  A Dandy  is  a Clothes- 
wearing  Man,  a Man  whose  trade,  office  and  existence  consists 
in  the  wearing  of  Clothes.  Every  faculty  of  his  soul,  spirit, 


206 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


purse  and  person  is  heroically  consecrated  to  this  one  object, 
the  wearing  of  Clothes  wisely  and  well : so  that  as  others 
dress  to  live,  he  lives  to  dress.  The  all-importance  of  Clothes, 
which  a German  Professor,  of  unequalled  learning  and  acumen, 
writes  his  enormous  Volume  to  demonstrate,  has  sprung  up 
in  the  intellect  of  the  Dandy  without  effort,  like  an  instinct 
of  genius ; he  is  inspired  with  Cloth,  a Poet  of  Cloth.  What 
Teufelsdrockh  would  call  a “ Divine  Idea  of  Cloth  ” is  born 
with  him ; and  this,  like  other  such  Ideas,  will  express  itself 
outwardly,  or  wring  his  heart  asunder  with  unutterable 
throes. 

But,  like  a generous,  creative  enthusiast,  he  fearlessly  makes 
his  Idea  an  Action ; shows  himself  in  peculiar  guise  to  man- 
kind ; walks  forth,  a witness  and  living  Martyr  to  the  eternal 
worth  of  Clothes.  We  called  him  a Poet : is  not  his  body 
the  (stuffed)  parchment-skin  whereon  he  writes,  with  cunning 
Huddersfield  dyes,  a Sonnet  to  his  mistress’  eyebrow  ? Say, 
rather,  an  Epos,  and  Clotha  Virumque  cano , to  the  whole  world, 
in  Macaronic  verses,  which  he  that  runs  may  read.  Nay,  if 
you  grant,  what  seems  to  be  admissible,  that  the  Dandy  has 
a Thinking-principle  in  him,  and  some  notions  of  Time  and 
Space,  is  there  not  in  this  life-devotedness  to  Cloth,  in  this  so 
willing  sacrifice  of  the  Immortal  to  the  Perishable,  something 
(though  in  reverse  order)  of  that  blending  and  identification  of 
Eternity  with  Time,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  constitutes  the 
Prophetic  character  ? 

And  now,  for  all  this  perennial  Martyrdom,  and  Poesy,  and 
even  Prophecy,  what  is  it  that  the  Dandy  asks  in  return  ? 
Solely,  we  may  say,  that  you  would  recognize  his  existence ; 
would  admit  him  to  be  a living  object;  or  even  failing  this, 
a visual  object,  or  thing  that  will  reflect  rays  of  light.  Your 
silver  or  your  gold  (beyond  what  the  niggardly  Law  has 
already  secured  him)  he  solicits  not ; simply  the  glance  of 
your  eyes.  Understand  his  mystic  significance,  or  altogether 
miss  and  misinterpret  it ; do  but  look  at  him,  and  he  is  con- 
tented. May  we  not  well  cry  shame  on  an  ungrateful  world, 
which  refuses  even  this  poor  boon ; which  will  waste  its  optic 
faculty  on  dried  Crocodiles,  and  Siamese  Twins ; and  over  the 


Chap.  X. 


THE  DANDIACAL  BODY. 


207 


domestic  wonderful  wonder  of  wonders,  a live  Dandy,  glance 
with  hasty  indifference,  and  a scarcely  concealed  contempt ! 
Him  no  Zoologist  classes  among  the  Mammalia,  no  Anatomist 
dissects  with  care  : when  did  we  see  any  injected  Preparation 
of  the  Dandy  in  our  Museums ; any  specimen  of  him  preserved 
in  spirits ! Lord  Herringbone  may  dress  himself  in  a snuff- 
brown  suit,  with  snuff-brown  shirt  and  shoes : it  skills  not ; 
the  undiscerning  public,  occupied  with  grosser  wants,  passes 
by  regardless  on  the  other  side. 

The  age  of  Curiosity,  like  that  of  Chivalry,  is  indeed,  prop- 
erly speaking,  gone.  Yet  perhaps  only  gone  to  sleep:  for  here 
arises  the  Clothes-Philosophy  to  resuscitate,  strangely  enough, 
both  the  one  and  the  other ! Should  sound  views  of  this 
Science  come  to  prevail,  the  essential  nature  of  the  British 
Dandy,  and  the  mystic  significance  that  lies  in  him,  cannot 
always  remain  hidden  under  laughable  and  lamentable  halluci- 
nation. The  following  long  Extract  from  Professor  Teufels- 
drockh  may  set  the  matter,  if  not  in  its  true  light,  yet  in  the 
way  towards  such.  It  is  to  be  regretted,  however,  that  here, 
as  so  often  elsewhere,  the  Professor’s  keen  philosophic  perspi- 
cacity is  somewhat  marred  by  a certain  mixture  of  almost  owl- 
ish purblindness,  or  else  of  some  perverse,  ineffectual,  ironic 
tendency;  our  readers  shall  judge  which:  — 

“ In  these  distracted  times,”  writes  he,  “ when  the  Beligious 
Principle,  driven  out  of  most  Churches,  either  lies  unseen  in 
the  hearts  of  good  men,  looking  and  longing  and  silently 
working  there  towards  some  new  Eevelation ; or  else  wanders 
homeless  over  the  world,  like  a disembodied  soul  seeking  its 
terrestrial  organization,  — into  how  many  strange  shapes,  of 
Superstition  and  Fanaticism,  does  it  not  tentatively  and  er- 
rantly cast  itself ! The  higher  Enthusiasm  of  man’s  nature 
is  for  the  while  without  Exponent ; yet  does  it  continue  inde- 
structible, unweariedly  active,  and  work  blindly  in  the  great 
chaotic  deep  : thus  Sect  after  Sect,  and  Church  after  Church, 
bodies  itself  forth,  and  melts  again  into  new  metamorphosis. 

“ Chiefly  is  this  observable  in  England,  which,  as  the  wealth- 
iest and  worst-instructed  of  European  nations,  offers  precisely 


208 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


the  elements  (of  Heat,  namely,  and  of  Darkness),  in  which 
such  moon-calves  and  monstrosities  are  best  generated.  Among 
the  newer  Sects  of  that  country,  one  of  the  most  notable,  and 
closely  connected  with  our  present  subject,  is  that  of  the 
Dandies ; concerning  which,  what  little  information  I have 
been  able  to  procure  may  fitly  stand  here. 

“ It  is  true,  certain  of  the  English  Journalists,  men  gen- 
erally without  sense  for  the  Religious  Principle,  or  judgment 
for  its  manifestations,  speak,  in  their  brief  enigmatic  notices, 
as  if  this  were  perhaps  rather  a Secular  Sect,  and  not  a Re- 
ligious one;  nevertheless,  to  the  psychologic  eye  its  devo- 
tional and  even  sacrificial  character  plainly  enough  reveals 
itself.  Whether  it  belongs  to  the  class  of  Fetish-worships, 
or  of  Hero-worships  or  Polytheisms,  or  to  what  other  class, 
may  in  the  present  state  of  our  intelligence  remain  undecided 
( 'schweben ).  A certain  touch  of  Manicheism,  not  indeed  in  the 
Gnostic  shape,  is  discernible  enough ; also  (for  human  Error 
walks  in  a cycle,  and  reappears  at  intervals)  a not-inconsidera- 
ble  resemblance  to  that  Superstition  of  the  Athos  Monks,  who 
by  fasting  from  all  nourishment,  and  looking  intensely  for  a 
length  of  time  into  their  own  navels,  came  to  discern  therein 
the  true  Apocalypse  of  Nature,  and  Heaven  Unveiled.  To  my 
own  surmise,  it  appears  as  if  this  Dandiacal  Sect  were  but  a 
new  modification,  adapted  to  the  new  time,  of  that  primeval 
Superstition,  Self-worship;  which  Zerdusht,  Quangfoutchee, 
Mahomet,  and  others,  strove  rather  to  subordinate  and  re- 
strain than  to  eradicate  ; and  which  only  in  the  purer  forms 
of  Religion  has  been  altogether  rejected.  Wherefore,  if  any  one 
chooses  to  name  it  revived  Ahrimanism,  or  a new  figure  of 
Demon- Worship,  I have,  so  far  as  is  yet  visible,  no  objection. 

“ For  the  rest,  these  people,  animated  with  the  zeal  of  a 
new  Sect,  display  courage  and  perseverance,  and  what  force 
there  is  in  man’s  nature,  though  never  so  enslaved.  They 
affect  great  purity  and  separatism  ; distinguish  themselves  by 
a particular  costume  (whereof  some  notices  were  given  in  the 
earlier  part  of  this  Volume)  ; likewise,  so  far  as  possible,  by  a 
particular  speech  (apparently  some  broken  Lingua  franca,  or 
English-Erench)  ; and,  on  the  whole,  strive  to  maintain  a true 


209 


Chap.  X.  THE  DANDIACAL  BODY. 

Nazarene  deportment,  and  keep  themselves  unspotted  from 
the  world. 

“ They  have  their  Temples,  whereof  the  chief,  as  the  Jew- 
ish Temple  did,  stands  in  their  metropolis;  and  is  named 
AlmacFs , a word  of  uncertain  etymology.  They  worship  prin- 
cipally by  night ; and  have  their  High-priests  and  High-priest- 
esses, who,  however,  do  not  continue  for  life.  The  rites,  by 
some  supposed  to  be  of  the  Menadic  sort,  or  perhaps  with  an 
Eleusinian  or  Cabiric  character,  are  held  strictly  secret.  Nor 
are  Sacred  Books  wanting  to  the  Sect ; these  they  call  Fash- 
ionable Novels:  however,  the  Canon  is  not  completed,  and 
some  are  canonical  and  others  not. 

“ Of  such  Sacred  Books  I,  not  without  expense,  procured' 
myself  some  samples  ; and  in  hope  of  true  insight,  and  with 
the  zeal  which  beseems  an  Inquirer  into  Clothes,  set  to  inter- 
pret and  study  them.  But  wholly  to  no  purpose  : that  tough 
faculty  of  reading,  for  which  the  world  will  not  refuse  me 
credit,  was  here  for  the  first  time  foiled  and  set  at  naught. 
In  vain  that  I summoned  my  whole  energies  (mich  weidlich 
anstrengte ),  and  did  my  very  utmost ; at  the  end  of  some  short 
space,  I was  uniformly  seized  with  not  so  much  what  I can 
call  a drumming  in  my  ears,  as  a kind  of  infinite,  unsufferablej 
Jew’s-harping  and  scrannel-piping  there;  to  which  the  fright- 
fullest  species  of  Magnetic  Sleep  soon  supervened.  And  if  I 
strove  to  shake  this  away,  and  absolutely  would  not  yield,  there 
came  a hitherto  unfelt  sensation,  as  of  Delirium  Tremens , and 
a melting  into  total  deliquium  : till  at  last,  by  order  of  the 
Doctor,  dreading  ruin  to  my  whole  intellectual  and  bodily 
faculties,  and  a general  breaking  up  of  the  constitution,  I re- 
luctantly but  determinedly  forbore.  Was  there  some  miracle 
at  work  here ; like  those  Fire-balls,  and  supernal  and  infernal 
prodigies,  which,  in  the  case  of  the  Jewish  Mysteries,  have 
also  more  than  once  scared  back  the  Alien  ? Be  this  as  it 
may,  such  failure  on  my  part,  after  best  efforts,  must  excuse 
the  imperfection  of  this  sketch ; altogether  incomplete,  yet  the 
completest  I could  give  of  a Sect  too  singular  to  be  omitted. 

“Loving  my  own  life  and  senses  as  I do,  no  power  shall 
induce  me,  as  a private  individual,  to  open  another  Fashionable 
14 


VOL.  I. 


210 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


Novel.  But  luckily,  in  this  dilemma,  comes  a hand  from  the 
clouds  ; whereby  if  not  victory,  deliverance  is  held  out  to 
me.  Round  one  of  those  Book-packages,  which  the  Still- 
schiveigert sche  Buchhandlung  is  in  the  habit  of  importing 
from  England,  come,  as  is  usual,  various  waste  printed-sheets 
( Maeulatur-blatter ),  by  way  of  interior  wrappage  : into  these 
the  Clothes-Philosopher,  wdth  a certain  Mahometan  reverence 
even  for  waste-paper,  where  curious  knowledge  will  sometimes 
hover,  disdains  not  to  cast  his  eye.  Readers  may  judge  of  his 
astonishment  when  on  such  a defaced  stray-sheet,  probably 
the  outcast  fraction  of  some  English  Periodical,  such  as  they 
name  Magazine , appears  something  like  a Dissertation  on  this 
very  subject  of  Fashionable  Novels ! It  sets  out,  indeed, 
chiefly  from  a Secular  point  of  view ; directing  itself,  not 
without  asperity,  against  some  to  me  unknown  individual 
named  Pelham , who  seems  to  be  a Mystagogue,  and  leading 
Teacher  and  Preacher  of  the  Sect ; so  that,  what  indeed  other- 
wise was  not  to  be  expected  in  such  a fugitive  fragmentary 
sheet,  the  true  secret,  the  Religious  physiognomy  and  physi- 
ology of  the  Dandiacal  Body,  is  nowise  laid  fully  open  there. 
Nevertheless,  scattered  lights  do  from  time  to  time  sparkle 
out,  whereby  I have  endeavored  to  profit.  Nay,  in  one  pas- 
sage selected  from  the  Prophecies,  or  Mythic  Theogonies,  or 
whatever  they  are  (for  the  style  seems  very  mixed)  of  this 
Mystagogue,  I find  what  appears  to  be  a Confession  of  Faith, 
or  Whole  Duty  of  Man,  according  to  the  tenets  of  that  Sect. 
Which  Confession  or  Whole  Duty,  therefore,  as  proceeding 
from  a source  so  authentic,  I shall  here  arrange  under  Seven 
distinct  Articles,  and  in  very  abridged  shape  lay  before  the 
German  world;  therewith  taking  leave  of  this  matter.  Ob- 
serve also,  that  to  avoid  possibility  of  error,  I,  as  far  as  may 
be,  quote  literally  from  the  Original : — 

ARTICLES  OF  FAITH. 

1 1.  Coats  should  have  nothing  of  the  triangle  about  them ; 
at  the  same  time,  wrinkles  behind  should  be  carefully  avoided. 

‘ 2.  The  collar  is  a very  important  point : it  should  be  low 
behind,  and  slightly  rolled. 


Chap.  X.  THE  DANDIACAL  BODY.  211 

4 3.  No  license  of  fashion  can  allow  a man  of  delicate  taste 
to  adopt  the  posterial  luxuriance  of  a Hottentot. 

4 4.  There  is  safety  in  a swallow-tail. 

4 5.  The  good  sense  of  a gentleman  is  nowhere  more  finely 
developed  than  in  his  rings. 

4 6.  It  is  permitted  to  mankind,  under  certain  restrictions, 
to  wear  white  waistcoats. 

4 7.  The  trousers  must  be  exceedingly  tight  across  the  hips.’ 

44  All  which  Propositions  I,  for  the  present,  content  myself 
with  modestly  but  peremptorily  and  irrevocably  denying. 

44  In  strange  contrast  with,  this  Dandiacal  Body  stands 
another  British  Sect,  originally,  as  I understand,  of  Ireland, 
whern  its  chief  seat  still  is ; but  known  also  in  the  main 
Island,  and  indeed  everywhere  rapidly  spreading.  As  this 
Sect  has  hitherto  emitted  no  Canonical  Books,  it  remains 
to  me  in  the  same  state  of  obscurity  as  the  Dandiacal,  which 
has  published  Books  that  the  unassisted  human  faculties  are 
inadequate  to  read.  The  members  appear  to  be  designated 
by  a considerable  diversity  of  names,  according  to  their  va- 
rious places  of  establishment : in  England  they  are  generally 
called  the  Drudge  Sect;  also,  unphilosophically  enough,  the 
White  Negroes ; and,  chiefly  in  scorn  by  those  of  other  com- 
munions, the  Ragged-Beggar  Sect.  In  Scotland,  again,  I find 
them  entitled  Holla, nshakers , or  the  Stook  of  Duds  Sect ; any 
individual  communicant  is  named  Stook  of  Duds  (that  is, 
Shock  of  Rags),  in  allusion,  doubtless,  to  their  professional 
Costume.  While  in  Ireland,  which,  as  mentioned,  is  their 
grand  parent  hive,  they  go  by  a perplexing  multiplicity  of 
designations,  such  as  Bogtrotters,  Redshanks , Ribbonmen,  Cot- 
tiers, Peep-of-Day  Boys , Babes  of  the  Wood,  Roekites,  Poor- 
Slaves : which  last,  however,  seems  to  be  the  primary  and 
generic  name ; whereto,  probably  enough,  the  others  are  only 
subsidiary  species,  or  slight  varieties  ; or,  at  most,  propagated 
offsets  from  the  parent  stem,  whose  minute  subdivisions,  and 
shades  of  difference,  it  were  here  loss  of  time  to  dwell  on. 
Enough  for  us  to  understand,  what  seems  indubitable,  that 
the  original  Sect  is  that  of  the  Poor- Slaves  ; whose  doctrines, 
practices,  and  fundamental  characteristics  pervade  and  ani- 


212  SARTOR  RESARTUS.  Book  hi. 

mate  the  whole  Body,  howsoever  denominated  or  outwardly 
diversified. 

u The  precise  speculative  tenets  of  this  Brotherhood : how 
the  Universe,  and  Man,  and  Man’s  Life,  picture  themselves 
to  the  mind  of  an  Irish  Poor-Slave ; with  what  feelings  and 
opinions  he  looks  forward  on  the  Future,  round  on  the  Pres- 
ent, back  on  the  Past,  it  were  extremely  difficult  to  specify. 
Something  Monastic  there  appears  to  be  in  their  Constitution : 
we  find  them  bound  by  the  two  Monastic  Yows,  of  Poverty 
and  Obedience ; which  Vows,  especially  the  former,  it  is  said, 
they  observe  with  great  strictness ; nay,  as  I have  understood 
it,  they  are  pledged,  and  be  it  by  any  solemn  Nazarene  ordina- 
tion or  not,  irrevocably  consecrated  thereto,  even  before  birth. 
That  the  third  Monastic  Vow,  of  Chastity,  is  rigidly  enforced 
among  them,  I find  no  ground  to  conjecture. 

“ Furthermore,  they  appear  to  imitate  the  Dandiacal  Sect 
in  their  grand  principle  of  wearing  a peculiar  Costume.  Of 
which  Irish  Poor-Slave  Costume  no  description  will  indeed 
be  found  in  the  present  Volume ; for  this  reason,  that  by  the 
imperfect  organ  of  Language  it  did  not  seem  describable. 
Their  raiment  consists  of  innumerable  skirts,  lappets  and 
irregular  wings,  of  all  cloths  and  of  all  colors  ; through  the 
labyrinthic  intricacies  of  which  their  bodies  are  introduced  by 
some  unknown  process.  It  is  fastened  together  by  a multi- 
plex combination  of  buttons,  thrums  and  skewers ; to  which 
frequently  is  added  a girdle  of  leather,  of  hempen  or  even 
of  straw  rope,  round  the  loins.  To  straw  rope,  indeed,  they 
seem  partial,  and  often  wear  it  by  way  of  sandals.  In  head- 
dress they  affect  a certain  freedom : hats  with  partial  brim, 
without  crown,  or  with  only  a loose,  hinged,  or  valve  crown ; 
in  the  former  case,  they  sometimes  invert  the  hat,  and  wear 
it  brim  uppermost,  like  a university-cap,  with  what  view  is 
unknown. 

“ The  name  Poor-Slaves  seems  to  indicate  a Slavonic,  Polish, 
or  Russian  origin : not  so,  however,  the  interior  essence  and 
spirit  of  their  Superstition,  which  rather  displays  a Teutonic 
or  Druidical  character.  One  might  fancy  them  worshippers 
of  Hertha,  or  the  Earth : for  they  dig  and  affectionately  work 


Chap.  X. 


THE  DANDIACAL  BODY. 


213 


continually  in  her  bosom ; or  else,  shut  up  in  private  Orato- 
ries, meditate  and  manipulate  the  substances  derived  from  her $ 
seldom  looking  up  towards  the  Heavenly  Luminaries,  and  then 
with  comparative  indifference.  Like  the  Druids,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  live  in  dark  dwellings  ; often  even  breaking  their 
glass  windows,  where  they  find  such,  and  stuffing  them  up 
with  pieces  of  raiment,  or  other  opaque  substances,  till  the 
fit  obscurity  is  restored.  Again,  like  all  followers  of  Nature- 
Worship,  they  are  liable  to  out  breakings  of  an  enthusiasm 
rising  to  ferocity ; and  burn  men,  if  not  in  wicker  idols,  yet 
in  sod  cottages.  # 

u In  respect  of  diet,  they  have  also  their  observances.  All 
Poor-Slaves  are  Ehizophagous  (or  Eoot-eaters) ; a few  are 
Ichthyophagous,  and  use  Salted  Herrings : other  animal  food 
they  abstain  from ; except  indeed,  with  perhaps  some  strange 
inverted  fragment  of  a Brahminical  feeling,  such  animals  as 
die  a natural  death.  Their  universal  sustenance  is  the  root 
named  Potato,  cooked  by  fire  alone  ; and  generally  without 
condiment  or  relish  of  any  kind,  save  an  unknown  condi- 
ment named  Point,  into  the  meaning  of  which  I have  vainly 
inquired ; the  victual  Potato es-and-Point  not  appearing,  at 
least  not  with  specific  accuracy  of  description,  in  any  Euro- 
pean Cookery-Book  whatever.  For  drink,  they  use,  with  an 
almost  epigrammatic  counterpoise  of  taste,  Milk,  which  is  the 
mildest  of  liquors,  and  Potheen,  which  is  the  fiercest.  This 
latter  I have  tasted,  as  v^ell  as  the  English  Blue-Ruin,  and  the 
Scotch  Whiskey,  analogous  fluids  used  by  the  Sect  in  those 
countries : it  evidently  contains  some  form  of  alcohol,  in  the 
highest  state  of  concentration,  though  disguised  with  acrid 
oils ; and  is,  on  the  whole,  the  most  pungent  substance  known 
to  me,  — indeed,  a perfect  liquid  fire.  In  all  their  Eeligious 
Solemnities,  Potheen  is  said  to  be  an  indispensable  requisite, 
and  largely  consumed. 

“ An  Irish  Traveller,  of  perhaps  common  veracity,  who  pre- 
sents himself  under  the  to  me  unmeaning  title  of  The  late  John 
Bernard,  offers  the  following  sketch  of  a domestic  establish- 
ment, the  inmates  whereof,  though  such  is  not  stated  expressly, 
appear  to  have  been  of  that  Faith.  Thereby  shall  my  German 


214 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  II  r. 


readers  now  behold  an  Irish  Poor-Slave,  as  it  were  with  their 
own  eyes ; and  even  see  him  at  meat.  Moreover,  in  the  so 
precious  waste-paper  sheet  above  mentioned,  I have  found 
some  corresponding  picture  of  a Dandiacal  Household,  painted 
by  that  same  Dandiacal  Mystagogue,  or  Theogonist : this  also, 
by  way  of  counterpart  and  contrast,  the  world  shall  look  into. 

1‘  First,  therefore,  of  the  Poor-Slave,  who  appears  likewise  to 
have  been  a species  of  Innkeeper.  I quote  from  the  original : 

POOR-SLAVE  HOUSEHOLD. 

% 

“ k The  furniture  of  this  Caravansera  consisted  of  a large 
iron  Pot,  two  oaken  Tables,  two  Benches,  two  Chairs,  and 
a Potheen  Noggin.  There  was  a Loft  above  (attainable  by  a 
ladder),  upon  which  the  inmates  slept;  and  the  space  below 
was  divided  by  a hurdle  into  two  Apartments ; the  one  for 
their  cow  and  pig,  the  other  for  themselves  and  guests.  On 
entering  the  house  we  discovered  the  family,  eleven  in  num- 
ber, at  dinner : the  father  sitting  at  the  top,  the  mother  at 
the  bottom,  the  children  on  each  side,  of  a large  oaken  Board, 
which  was  scooped  out  in  the  middle,  like  a trough,  to  receive 
the  contents  of  their  Pot  of  Potatoes.  Little  holes  were  cut 
at  equal  distances  to  contain  Salt ; and  a bowl  of  Milk  stood 
on  the  table : all  the  luxuries  of  meat  and  beer,  bread,  knives 
and  dishes  were  dispensed  with.’  The  Poor-Slave  himself  our 
Traveller  found,  as  he  says,  broad-backed,  black-browed,  of 
great  personal  strength,  and  mouth  from  ear  to  ear.  His  Wife 
was  a sun-browned  but  well-featured  woman ; and  his  young 
ones,  bare  and  chubby,  had  the  appetite  of  ravens.  Of  their 
Philosophical  or  Religious  tenets  or  observances,  no  notice  or 
hint. 

“ But  now,  secondly,  of  the  Dandiacal  Household ; in  which, 
truly,  that  often-mentioned  Mystagogue  and  inspired  Penman 
himself  has  his  abode  : — 

DANDIACAL  HOUSEHOLD. 

“ ‘ A Dressing-room  splendidly  furnished  ; violet-colored  cur- 
tains, chairs  and  ottomans  of  the  same  hue.  Two  full-length 


Chap.  X. 


THE  DANDIACAL  BODY. 


215 


Mirrors  are  placed,  one  on  each  side  of  a table,  which  sup- 
ports the  luxuries  of  the  Toilet.  Several  Bottles  of  Perfumes, 
arranged  in  a peculiar  fashion,  stand  upon  a smaller  table  of 
mother-of-pearl : opposite  to  these  are  placed  the  appurtenances 
of  Lavation  richly  wrought  in  frosted  silver.  A Wardrobe  of 
Buhl  is  on  the  left;  the  doors  of  which,  being  partly  open, 
discover  a profusion  of  Clothes;  Shoes  of  a singularly  small 
size  monopolize  the  lower  shelves.  Fronting  the  wardrobe  a 
door  ajar  gives  some  slight  glimpse  of  a Bath-room.  Folding- 
doors  in  the  background.  — Enter  the  Author/  our  Theogo- 
nist  in  person,  4 obsequiously  preceded  by  a French  Yalet,  in 
white  silk  Jacket  and  cambric  Apron.’ 

44  Such  are  the  two  Sects  which,  at  this  moment,  divide  the 
more  unsettled  portion  of  the  British  People ; and  agitate  that 
ever-vexed  country.  To  the  eye  of  the  political  Seer,  their 
mutual  relation,  pregnant  with  the  elements  of  discord  and 
hostility,  is  far  from  consoling.  These  two  principles  of  Dan- 
diacal Self-worship  or  Demon-worship,  and  Poor-Slavish  or 
Drudgical  Earth-worship,  or  whatever  that  same  Drudgism 
may  be,  do  as  yet  indeed  manifest  themselves  under  distant  ^ 
and  nowise  considerable  shapes : nevertheless,  in  their  roots 
and  subterranean  ramifications,  they  extend  through  the  en- 
tire structure  of  Society,  and  work  unweariedly  in  the  secret 
depths  of  English  national  Existence ; striving  to  separate  and 
isolate  it  into  two  contradictory,  uncommunicating  masses. 

44  In  numbers,  and  even  individual  strength,  the  Poor-Slaves 
or  Drudges,  it  would  seem,  are  hourly  increasing.  The  Dan- 
diacal, again,  is  by  nature  no  proselytizing  Sect;  but -it  boasts 
of  great  hereditary  resources,  and  is  strong  by  union ; whereas 
the  Drudges,  split  into  parties,  have  as  yet  no  rallying-point ; 
or  at  best  only  co-operate  by  means  of  partial  secret  affiliations. 
If,  indeed,  there  were  to  arise  a Communion  of  Drudges,  as 
there  is  already  a Communion  of  Saints,  what  strangest  effects 
would  follow  therefrom ! Dandyism  as  yet  affects  to  look 
down  on  Drudgism : but  perhaps  the  hour  of  trial,  when  it  will 
be  practically  seen  which  ought  to  look  down,  and  which  up, 
is  not  so  distant. 


216 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


“To  me  it  seems  probable  that  the  two  Sects  will  one  day 
part  England  between  them  ; each  recruiting  itself  from  the 
intermediate  ranks,  till  there  be  none  left  to  enlist  on  either 
side.  Those  Dandiacal  Manicheans,  with  the  host  of  Dandy- 
izing  Christians,  will  form  one  body : the  Drudges,  gathering 
round  them  whosoever  is  Drudgical,  be  he  Christian  or  Infidel 
Pagan ; sweeping  up  likewise  all  manner  of  Utilitarians,  Radi- 
cals, refractory  Pot-wallopers,  and  so  forth,  into  their  general 
mass,  will  form  another.  I could  liken  Dandyism  and  Drudg- 
ism  to  two  bottomless  boiling  Whirlpools  that  had  broken  out 
on  opposite  quarters  of  the  firm  land  : as  yet  they  appear  only 
disquieted,  foolishly  bubbling  wells,  which  man’s  art  might 
cover  in ; yet  mark  them,  their  diameter  is  daily  widening : 
they  are  hollow  Cones  that  boil  up  from  the  infinite  Deep,  over 
which  your  firm  land  is  but  a thin  crust  or  rind  ! Thus  daily 
is  the  intermediate  land  crumbling  in,  daily  the  empire  of  the 
two  Buchan-Bullers  extending ; till  now  there  is  but  a foot- 
plank,  a mere  film  of  Land  between  them  ; this  too  is  washed 
away : and  then  — we  have  the  true  Hell  of  Waters,  and  Noah’s 
Deluge  is  out-deluged ! 

“Or  better,  I might  call  them  two  boundless,  and  indeed 
unexampled  Electric  Machines  (turned  by  the  ‘ Machinery  of 
Society  ’ ),  with  batteries  of  opposite  quality ; Drudgism  the 
Negative,  Dandyism  the  Positive ; one  attracts  hourly  towards 
it  and  appropriates  all  the  Positive  Electricity  of  the  nation 
(namely,  the  Money  thereof) ; the  other  is  equally  busy  with 
the  Negative  (that  is  to  say  the  Hunger),  which  is  equally 
potent.  Hitherto  you  see  only  partial  transient  sparkles  and 
sputters-:  but  wait  a little,  till  the  entire  nation  is  in  an  electric 
state : till  your  whole  vital  Electricity,  no  longer  healthfully 
Neutral,  is  cut  into  two  isolated  portions  of  Positive  and  Nega- 
tive (of  Money  and  of  Hunger) ; and  stands  there  bottled 
up  in  two  World-Batteries ! The  stirring  of  a child’s  finger 
brings  the  two  together ; and  then  — What  then  ? The  Earth 
is  but  shivered  into  impalpable  smoke  by  that  Doom’s  thun- 
der-peal; the  Sun  misses  one  of  his  Planets  in  Space,  and 
thenceforth  there  are  no  eclipses  of  the  Moon.  — Or  better 
still,  I might  liken”  — 


Chap.  XI. 


TAILORS. 


217 


Oh,  enough,  enough  of  likenings  and  similitudes ; in  excess 
of  which,  truly,  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  Teufelsdrockh  or  our- 
selves sin  the  more. 

We  have  often  blamed  him  for  a habit  of  wire-drawing  and 
over-refining ; from  of  old  we  have  been  familiar  with  his  ten- 
dency to  Mysticism  and  Religiosity,  whereby  in  everything  he 
was  still  scenting  out  Religion : but  never  perhaps  did  these 
amaurosis-suffusions  so  cloud  and  distort  his  otherwise  most 
piercing  vision,  as  in  this  of  the  Dandiacal  Body!  Or  was 
there  something  of  intended  satire ; is  the  Professor  and  Seer 
not  quite  the  blinkard  he  affects  to  be  ? Of  an  ordinary  mor- 
tal we  should  have  decisively  answered  in  the  affirmative ; but 
with  a Teufelsdrockh  there  ever  hovers  some  shade  of  doubt. 
In  the  mean  while,  if  satire  were  actually  intended,  the  case 
is  little  better.  There  are  not  wanting  men  who  will  answer : 
Does  your  Professor  take  us  for  simpletons  ? His  irony  has 
overshot  itself ; we  see  through  it,  and  perhaps  through  him. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TAILORS. 

Thus,  however,  has  our  first  Practical  Inference  from  the 
Clothes-Philosophy,  that  which  respects  Dandies,  been  suffi- 
ciently drawn ; and  we  come  now  to  the  second,  concerning 
Tailors.  On  this  latter  our  opinion  happily  quite  coincides 
with  that  of  Teufelsdrockh  himself,  as  expressed  in  the  con- 
cluding page  of  his  Volume,  to  whom,  therefore,  we  willingly 
give  place.  Let  him  speak  his  own  last  words,  in  his  own 
way : — 

“ Upwards  of  a century,”  says  he,  “ must  elapse,  and  still 
the  bleeding  fight  of  Freedom  be  fought,  whoso  is  noblest  per- 
ishing in  the  van,  and  thrones  be  hurled  on  altars  like  Pelion 
on  Ossa,  and  the  Moloch  of  Iniquity  have  his  victims,  and 
the  Michael  of  Justice  his  martyrs,  before  Tailors  can  be 


. 218 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


admitted  to  their  true  prerogatives  of  manhood,  and  this  last 
wound  of  suffering  Humanity  be  closed. 

“ If  aught  in  the  history  of  the  world’s  blindness  could  sur- 
prise us,  here  might  we  indeed  pause  and  wonder.  An  idea 
has  gone  abroad,  and  fixed  itself  down  into  a wide-spreading 
rooted  error,  that  Tailors  are  a distinct  species  in  Physiol- 
ogy, not  Men,  but  fractional  Parts  of  a Man.  Call  any  one  a 
Schneider  (Cutter,  Tailor),  is  it  not,  in  our  dislocated,  hood- 
winked, and  indeed  delirious  condition  of  Society,  equivalent 
to  defying  his  perpetual  fellest  enmity  ? The  epithet  schnei- 
dermassig  (tailor-like)  betokens  an  otherwise  unapproachable 
degree  of  pusillanimity;  we  introduce  a Tailor1  s-Melancholy, 
more  opprobrious  than  any  Leprosy,  into  our  Books  of  Medi- 
cine ; and  fable  I know  not  what  of  his  generating  it  by  living 
on  Cabbage.  Why  should  I speak  of  Hans  Sachs  (himself  a 
Shoemaker,  or  kind  of  Leather-Tailor),  with  his  Schneider 
mit  dem  Panier?  Why  of  Shakspeare,  in  his  Taming  of  the 
Shrew , and  elsewhere  ? Does  it  not  stand  on  record  that  the 
English  Queen  Elizabeth,  receiving  a deputation  of  Eighteen 
Tailors,  addressed  them  with  a ‘Good  morning,  gentlemen 
both  ! 5 Did  not  the  same  virago  boast  that  she  had  a Cavalry 
Regiment,  whereof  neither  horse  nor  man  could  be  injured; 
her  Regiment,  namely,  of  Tailors  on  Mares  ? Thus  every- 
where is  the  falsehood  taken  for  granted,  and  acted  on  as  an 
indisputable  fact. 

“Nevertheless,  need  I put  the  question  to  any  Physiologist, 
whether  it  is  disputable  or  not  ? Seems  it  not  at  least  pre- 
sumable, that,  under  his  Clothes,  the  Tailor  has  bones  and 
viscera,  and  other  muscles  than  the  sartorius  ? Which  func- 
tion of  manhood  is  the  Tailor  not  conjectured  to  perform  ? Can 
he  not  arrest  for  debt  ? Is  he  not  in  most  countries  a tax- 
paying  animal? 

“To  no  reader  of  this  Volume  can  it  be  doubtful  which  con- 
viction is  mine.  Nay  if  the  fruit  of  these  long  vigils,  and 
almost  preternatural  Inquiries,  is  not  to  perish  utterly,  the 
world  will  have  approximated  towards  a higher  Truth ; and 
the  doctrine,  which  Swift,  with  the  keen  forecast  of  genius, 
dimly  anticipated,  will  stand  revealed  in  clear  light : that  the 


Chap.  XI. 


TAILORS. 


219 


Tailor  is  not  only  a Man,  but  something  of  a Creator  or  Divin- 
ity. Of  Franklin  it  was  said,  that  ‘he  snatched  the  Thunder 
from  Heaven  and  the  Sceptre  from  Kings : ’ but  which  is 
greater,  I would  ask,  he  that  lends,  or  he  that  snatches  ? For, 
looking  away  from  individual  cases,  and  how  a Man  is  by 
the  Tailor  new-created  into  a Nobleman,  and  clothed  not  only 
with  Wool  but  with  Dignity  and  a Mystic  Dominion,  — is  not 
the  fair  fabric  of  Society  itself,  with  all  its  royal  mantles  and 
pontifical  stoles,  whereby,  from  nakedness  and  dismember- 
ment, we  are  organized  into  Polities,  into  nations,  and  a whole 
co-operating  Mankind,  the  creation,  as  has  here  been  often 
irrefragably  evinced,  of  the  Tailor  alone  ? — What  too  are 
all  Poets  and  moral  Teachers,  but  a species  of  Metaphorical 
Tailors  ? Touching  which  high  Guild  the  greatest  living 
Guild-brother  has  triumphantly  asked  us  : ‘ Nay  if  thou  wilt 
have  it,  who  but  the  Poet  first  made  Gods  for  men ; brought 
them  down  to  us ; and  raised  us  up  to  them  ? ’ 

“ And  this  is  he,  whom  sitting  downcast,  on  the  hard  basis 
of  his  Shopboard,  the  world  treats  with  contumely,  as  the 
ninth  part  of  a man ! Look  up,  thou  much-injured  one,  look 
up  with  the  kindling  eye  of  hope,  and  prophetic  bodings  of  a 
noble  better  time.  Too  long  hast  thou  sat  there,  on  crossed 
legs,  wearing  thy  ankle-joints  to  horn;  like  some  sacred 
Anchorite,  or  Catholic  Fakir,  doing  penance,  drawing  down 
Heaven’s  richest  blessings,  for  a world  that  scoffed  at  thee. 
Be  of  hope  ! Already  streaks  of  blue  peer  through  our  clouds ; 
the  thick  gloom  of  Ignorance  is  rolling  asunder,  and  it  will  be 
Day.  Mankind  will  repay  with  interest  their  long-accumulated 
debt : the  Anchorite  that  was  scoffed  at  will  be  worshipped  ; 
the  Fraction  will  become  not  an  Integer  only,  but  a Square 
and  Cube.  With  astonishment  the  world  will  recognize  that 
the  Tailor  is  its  Hierophant  and  Hierarch,  or  even  its  God. 

“As  I stood  in  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  and  looked  upon 
these  Four-and-Twenty  Tailors,  sewing  and  embroidering  that 
rich  Cloth,  which  the  Sultan  sends  yearly  for  the  Caaba  of 
Mecca,  I thought  within  myself : How  many  other  Unholies 
has  your  covering  Art  made  holy,  besides  this  Arabian 
Whinstone ! 


220 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  HI. 


“Still  more  touching  was  it  when,  turning  the  corner  of 
a lane,  in  the  Scottish  Town  of  Edinburgh,  I came  upon  a 
Signpost,  whereon  stood  written  that  such  and  such  a one 
was  ‘ Breeches-Maker  to  his  Majesty;’  and  stood  painted  the 
Effigies  of  a Pair  of  Leather  Breeches,  and  between  the  knees 
these  memorable  words,  Sic  itur  ad  astra.  Was  not  this  the 
martyr  prison-speech  of  a Tailor  sighing  indeed  in  bonds,  yet 
sighing  towards  deliverance,  and  prophetically  appealing  to  a 
better  day  ? A day  of  justice,  when  the  worth  of  Breeches 
would  be  revealed  to  man,  and  the  Scissors  become  forever 
venerable. 

u Neither,  perhaps,  may  I now  say,  has  his  appeal  been  alto- 
gether in  vain.  It  was  in  this  high  moment,  when  the  soul, 
rent,  as  it  were,  and  shed  asunder,  is  open  to  inspiring  influ- 
ence, that  I first  conceived  this  Work  on  Clothes  : the  greatest 
I can  ever  hope  to  do  ; which  has  already,  after  long  retarda- 
tions, occupied,  and  will  yet  occupy,  so  large  a section  of  my 
Life ; and  of  which  the  Primary  and  simpler  Portion  may 
here  find  its  conclusion.” 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FAREWELL. 

So  have  we  endeavored,  from  the  enormous,  amorphous 
Plum-pudding,  more  like  a Scottish  Haggis,  which  Herr  Teu- 
felsdrockh  had  kneaded  fo’r  his  fellow-mortals,  to  pick  out  the 
choicest  Plums,  and  present  them  separately  on  a cover  of  our 
own.  A laborious,  perhaps  a thankless  enterprise ; in  which, 
however,  something  of  hope  has  occasionally  cheered  us,  and 
of  which  we  can  now  wash  our  hands  not  altogether  without 
satisfaction.  If  hereby,  though  in  barbaric  wise,  some  morsel 
of  spiritual  nourishment  have  been  added  to  the  scanty  ration 
of  our  beloved  British  world,  what  nobler  recompense  could 
the  Editor  desire  ? If  it  prove  otherwise,  why  should  he 
murmur?  Was  not  this  a Task  which  Destiny,  in  any  case. 


Chap.  XII. 


FAREWELL. 


221 


had  appointed  him  ; which  having  now  done  with,  he  sees  his 
general  Dayk-work  so  much  the  lighter,  so  much  the  shorter  ? 

Of  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  it  seems  impossible  to  take 
leave  without  a mingled  feeling  of  astonishment,  gratitude, 
and  disapproval.  Who  will  not  regret  that  talents,  which 
might  have  profited  in  the  higher  walks  of  Philosophy,  or  in 
Art  itself,  have  been  so  much  devoted  to  a rummaging  among 
lumber-rooms  ; nay  too  often  to  a scraping  in  kennels,  where 
lost  rings  and  diamond-necklaces  are  nowise  the  sole  con- 
quests ? Regret  is  unavoidable  ; yet  censure  were  loss  of  time. 
To  cure  him  of  his  mad  humors  British  Criticism  would  essay 
in  vain  : enough  for  her  if  she  can,  by  vigilance,  prevent  the 
spreading  of  such  among  ourselves.  What  a result,  should 
this  piebald,  entangled,  hyper-metaphorical  style  of  writing, 
not  to  say  of  thinking,  become  general  among  our  Literary 
men ! As  it  might  so  easily  do.  Thus  has  not  the  Editor' 
himself,  working  over  Teufelsdrockh’s  German,  lost  much  of 
his  own  English  purity  ? Even  as  the  smaller  whirlpool  is 
sucked  into  the  larger,  and  made  to  whirl  along  with  it,  so* 
has  the  lesser  mind,  in  this  instance,  been  forced  to  become 
portion  of  the  greater,  and,  like  it,  see  all  things  figura- 
tively  : which  habit  time  and  assiduous  effort  will  be  neededi 
to  eradicate. 

Nevertheless,  wayward  as  our  Professor  shows  himself,,  is 
there  any  reader  that  can  part  with  him  in  declared  enmity  ? 
Let  us  confess,  there  is  that  in  the  wild,  much-suffering,  muck- 
inflicting  man,  which  almost  attaches  us.  His  attitude,,  we 
will  hope  and  believe,  is  that  of  a man  who  had  said  to  Cant, 
Begone ; and  to  Dilettantism,  Here  thou  canst  not  be ; and  to 
Truth,  Be  thou  in  place  of  all  to  me : a man  who  had  manfully 
defied  the  a Time-Prince/’  or  Devil,  to  his  face ; nay  perhaps, 
Hannibal-like,  was  mysteriously  consecrated  from  birth  to  that 
warfare,  and  now  stood  minded  to  wage  the  same,  by  all  weap- 
ons, in  all  places,  at  all  times.  In  such  a cause,  any  soldier,, 
were  he  but  a Polack  Scythe-man,  shall  be  welcome. 

Still  the  question  returns  on  us : How  could  a man  occa- 
sionally of  keen  insight,  not  without  keen  sense  of  propriety, 


222 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


who  had  real  Thoughts  to  communicate,  resolve  to  emit  them 
in  a shape  bordering  so  closely  on  the  absurd  ? Which  ques- 
tion he  were  wiser  than  the  present  Editor  who  should  satis- 
factorily answer.  Our  conjecture  has  sometimes  been,  that 
perhaps  Necessity  as  well  as  Choice  was  concerned  in  it. 
Seems  it  not  conceivable  that,  in  a Life  like  our  Professor’s, 
where  so  much  bountifully  given  by  Nature  had  in  Practice 
failed  and  misgone,  Literature  also  would  never  rightly  pros- 
per : that  striving  with  his  characteristic  vehemence  to  paint 
this  and  the  other  Picture,  and  ever  without  success,  he  at  last 
desperately  dashes  his  sponge,  full  of  all  colors,  against  the 
canvas,  to  try  whether  it  will  paint  Foam  ? With  all  his  still- 
ness, there  were  perhaps  in  Teufelsdrockh  desperation  enough 
for  this. 

A second  conjecture  we  hazard  with  even  less  warranty.  It 
is,  that  Teufelsdrockh  is  not  without  some  touch  of  the  univer- 
sal feeling,  a wish  to  proselytize.  How  often  already  have 
we  paused,  uncertain  whether  the  basis  of  this  so  enigmatic 
nature  were  really  Stoicism  and  Despair,  or  Love  and  Hope 
'only  seared  into  the  figure  of  these ! Remarkable,  moreover, 
is  this  saying  of  his:  “How  were  Friendship  possible?  In 
mutual  devotedness  to  the  Good  and  True : otherwise  impos- 
sible; except  as  Armed  Neutrality,  or  hollow  Commercial 
League.  A man,  be  the  Heavens  ever  praised,  is  sufficient  for 
himself ; yet  were  ten  men,  united  in  Love,  capable  of  being 
and  of  doing  what  ten  thousand  singly  would  fail  in.  Infinite 
is  the  help  man  can  yield  to  man.”  And  now  in  conjunction 
therewith  consider  this  other : “It  is  the  Night  of  the  World, 
and  still  long  till  it  be  Day : we  wander  amid  the  glimmer  of 
smoking  ruins,  and  the  Sun  and  the  Stars  of  Heaven  are  as 
if  blotted  out  for  a season ; and  two  immeasurable  Phantoms, 
Hypocrisy  and  Atheism,  with  the  Ghoul,  Sensuality,  stalk 
abroad  over  the  Earth,  and  call  it  theirs : well  at  ease  are  the 
Sleepers  for  whom  Existence  is  a shallow  Dream.” 

But  what  of  the  awe-struck  Wakeful  who  find  it  a Reality? 
Should  not  these  unite  ; since  even  an  authentic  Spectre  is  not 
visible  to  Two  ? — In  which  case  were  this  Enormous  Clothes- 
Volume  properly  an  enormous  Pitch-pan,  which  our  Teufels- 


Chap.  XII. 


FAREWELL. 


223 


drockh  in  ‘his  lone  watch-tower  had  kindled,  that  it  might 
flame  far  and  wide  through  the  Night,  and  many  a discon- 
solately wandering  spirit  be  guided  thither  to  a Brother’s 
bosom!  — We  say  as  before,  with  all  his  malign  Indifference, 
who  knows  what  mad  Hopes  this  man  may  harbor  ? 

Meanwhile  there  is  one  fact  to  be  stated  here,  which  har- 
monizes ill  with  such  conjecture;  and,  indeed,  were  Teufels- 
drockh made  like  other  men,  might  as  good  as  altogether 
subvert  it.  Namely,  that  while  the  Beacon-fire  blazed  its 
brightest,  the  Watchman  had  quitted  it ; that  no  pilgrim  could 
now  ask  him  : Watchman,  what  of  the  Night  ? Professor 
Teufelsdrockh,  be  it  known,  is  no  longer  visibly  present  at 
Weissnichtwo,  but  again  to  all  appearance  lost  in  space  ! 
Some  time  ago,  the  Hofrath  Heuschrecke  was  pleased  to  favor 
us  with  another  copious  Epistle ; wherein  much  is  said  about 
the  “.Population-Institute ; ” much  repeated  in  praise  of  the 
Paper-bag  Documents,  the  hieroglyphic  nature  of  which  our 
Hofrath  still  seems  not  to  have  surmised ; and,  lastly,  the 
strangest  occurrence  communicated,  to  us  for  the  first  time,  in 
the  following  paragraph  : — 

“ Ew.  Wohlgeboren  will  have  seen  from  the  Public  Prints, 
with  what  affectionate  and  hitherto  fruitless  solicitude  Weiss- 
nichtwo regards  the  disappearance  of  her  Sage.  Might  but 
the  united  voice  of  Germany  prevail  on  him  to  return ; nay 
could  we  but  so  much  as  elucidate  for  ourselves  by  what  mys- 
tery he  went  away ! But,  alas,  old  Lieschen  experiences  or 
affects  the  profoundest  deafness,  the  profoundest  ignorance  : 
in  the  Wahngasse  all  lies  swept,  silent,  sealed  up  ; the  Privy 
Council  itself  can  hitherto  elicit  no  answer. 

“It  had  been  remarked  that  while  the  agitating  news  of 
those  Parisian  Three  Days  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and 
dinned  every  ear  in  Weissnichtwo,  Herr  Teufelsdrockh  was 
not  known,  at  the  Gans  or  elsewhere,  to  have  spoken,  for  a 
whole  week,  any  syllable  except  once  these  three : Es  geht  an 
(It  is  beginning).  Shortly  after,  as  Ew.  Wohlgeboren  knows, 
was  the  public  tranquillity  here,  as  in  Berlin,  threatened  by  a 
Sedition  of  the  Tailors.  Nor  did  there  want  Evil-wishers, 
or  perhaps  mere  desperate  Alarmists,  who  asserted  that  the 


224 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Book  III. 


closing  Chapter  of  the  Clothes-Yolume  was  to  blamA  In  this 
appalling  crisis,  the  serenity  of  our  Philosopher  was  indescrib- 
able : nay,  perhaps  through  one  humble  individual,  something 
thereof  might  pass  into  the  Rath  (Council)  itself,  and  so  con- 
tribute to  the  country’s  deliverance.  The  Tailors  are  now 
entirely  pacificated. — 

“ To  neither  of  these  two  incidents  can  I attribute  our  loss : 
yet  still  comes  there  the  shadow  of  a suspicion  out  of  Paris 
and  its  Politics.  ’ For  example,  when  the  Saint- Simonian 
Society  transmitted  its  Propositions  hither,  and  the  whole 
Gans  was  one  vast  cackle  of  laughter,  lamentation  and  aston- 
ishment, our  Sage  sat  mute ; and  at  the  end  of  the  third  even- 
ing said  merely : ‘ Here  also  are  men  who  have  discovered, 
not  without  amazement,  that  Man  is  still  Man  ; of  which 
high,  long-forgotten  Truth  you  already  see  them  make  a false 
application.’  Since  then,  as  has  been  ascertained  by  exami- 
nation of  the  Post-Director,  there  passed  at  least  one  Letter 
with  its  Answer  between  the  Messieurs  Bazard-Enfantin  and 
our  Professor  himself  ; of  what  tenor  can  now  only  be  conjec- 
tured. On  the  fifth  night  following,  he  was  seen  for  the  last 
time  ! 

“ Has  this  invaluable  man,  so  obnoxious  to  most  of  the  hos- 
tile Sects  that  convulse  our  Era,  been  spirited  away  by  cer- 
tain of  their  emissaries  ; or  did  he  go  forth  voluntarily  to 
their  head-quarters  to  confer  with  them,  and  confront  them  ? 
Reason  we  have,  at  least  of  a negative  sort,  to  believe  the 
Lost  still  living;  our  widowed  heart  also  whispers  that  ere 
long  he  will  himself  give  a sign.  Otherwise,  indeed,  his 
archives  must,  one  day,  be  opened  by  Authority ; where  much, 
perhaps  the  Palingenesie  itself,  is  thought  to  be  reposited.” 

Thus  far  the  Hofrath;  who  vanishes,  as  is  his  wont,  too 
like  an  Ignis  Fatuus,  leaving  the  dark  still  darker. 

So  that  Teufelsdrockh’s  public  History  were  not  done,  then, 
or  reduced  to  an  even,  unromantic  tenor ; nay,  perhaps  the 
better  part  thereof  were  only  beginning  ? We  stand  in  a 
region  of  conjectures,  where  substance  has  melted  into  shadow, 
and  one  cannot  be  distinguished  from  the  other.  May  Time, 


Chap.  XII. 


FAREWELL. 


225 


which  solves  or  suppresses  all  problems,  throw  glad  light  on 
this  also  ! Our  own  private  conjecture,  now  amounting 
almost  to  certainty,  is  that,  safe-moored  in  some  stillest 
obscurity,  not  to  lie  always  still,  Teufelsdrockh  is  actually  in 
London  ! 

Here,  however,  can  the  present  Editor,  with  an  ambrosial 
joy  as  of  over-weariness  falling  into  sleep,  lay  down  his  pen. 
Well  does  he  know,  if  human  testimony  be  worth  aught,  that 
to  innumerable  British  readers  likewise,  this  is  a satisfying 
consummation  ; that  innumerable  British  readers  consider 
him,  during  these  current  months,  but  as  an  uneasy  interrup- 
tion to  their  ways  of  thought  and  digestion ; and  indicate  so 
much,  not  without  a certain  irritancy  and  even  spoken  invec- 
tive. For  which,  as  for  other  mercies,  ought  not  he  to  thank 
the  Upper  Powers  ? To  one  and  all  of  you,  0 irritated 
readers,  he,  with  outstretched  arms  and  open  heart,  will  wave 
a kind  farewell.  Thou  too,  miraculous  Entity,  who  namest 
thyself  Yorke  and  Oliver,  and  with  thy  vivacities  and  geni- 
alities, with  thy  all  too  Irish  mirth  and  madness,  and  odor  of 
palled  punch,  makest  such  strange  work,  farewell ; long  as 
thou  canst,  far  e-well!  Have  we  not,  in  the  course  of  Eter- 
nity, travelled  some  months  of  our  Life-journey  in  partial 
sight  of  one  another ; have  we  not  existed  together,  though  in 
a s4*-^  of  quarrel  ? 


VOL.  L 


15 


APPENDIX. 


This  questionable  little  Book  was  undoubtedly  written 
among  the  mountain  solitudes,  in  1831 ; but,  owing  to  impedi- 
ments natural  and  accidental,  could  not,  for  seven  years  more, 
appear  as  a Volume  in  England;  — and  had  at  last  to  clip 
itself  in  pieces,  and  be  content  to  struggle  out,  bit  by  bit, 
in  some  courageous  Magazine  that  offered.  Whereby  now,  to 
certain  idly  curious  readers,  and  even  to  myself  till  I make 
study,  the  insignificant  but  at  last  irritating  question,  What  its 
real  history  and  chronology  are,  is,  if  not  insoluble,  considera- 
bly involved  in  haze. 

To  the  first  English  Edition,  1838,  which  an  American,  or 
two  American  had  now  opened  the  way  for,  there  was  slight- 
ingly prefixed,  under  the  title,  “ Testimonies  of  Authors”  some 
straggle  of  real  documents,  which,  now  that  I find  it  again, 
sets  the  matter  into  clear  light  and  sequence  : — and  shall  here, 
for  removal  of  idle  stumbling-blocks  and  nugatory  guessings 
from  the  path  of  every  reader,  be  reprinted  as  it  stood.  ( Au- 
thor’s Note , of  1868.) 


TESTIMONIES  OF  AUTHORS. 

I.  Highest  Class,  Bookseller’s  Taster. 

Taster  to  Bookseller.  — 11  The  Author  of  Teufelsdrockh  is  a person  or 
talent ; his  work  displays  here  and  there  some  felicity  of  thought  and 
expression,  considerable  fancy  and  knowledge : but  whether  or  not  it 
would  take  with  the  public  seems  doubtful.  For  a jeu  d’esprit  of  that 
kind  it  is  too  long ; it  would  have  suited  better  as  an  essay  or  article 


APPENDIX. 


227 


than  as  a volume.  The  Author  has  no  great  tact ; his  wit  is  frequently 
heavy ; and  reminds  one  of  the  German  Baron  who  took  to  leaping  on 
tables,  and  answered  that  he  was  learning  to  be  lively.  Is  the  work  a 
translation  ? 77 

Bookseller  to  Editor . — u Allow  me  to  say  that  such  a writer  requires 
only  a little  more  tact  to  produce  a popular  as  well  as  an  able  work. 
Directly  on  receiving  your  permission,  I sent  your  MS.  to  a gentleman 
in  the  highest  class  of  men  of  letters,  and  an  accomplished  German 
scholar : I now  enclose  you  his  opinion,  which,  you  may  rely  upon  it, 
is  a just  one;  and  I have  too  high  an  opinion  of  your  good  sense  to 77 
&c.  &c.  — Ms.  (penes  nos),  London,  17th  September,  1831. 

II.  Critic  of  the  Sun. 

“Fraser’s  Magazine  exhibits  the  usual  brilliancy,  and  also  the 77  &c. 

u Sartor  Besartus  is  what  old  Dennis  used  to  call  1 a heap  of  clotted 
nonsense,7  mixed  however,  here  and  there,  with  passages  marked  by 
thought  and  striking  poetic  vigor.  But  what  does  the  writer  mean  by 
1 Baphometic  fire-baptism 7 ? Why  cannot  he  lay  aside  his  pedantry, 
and  write  so  as  to  make  himself  generally  intelligible  ? We  quote  by 
way  of  curiosity  a sentence  from  the  Sartor  Besartus ; which  may  be 
read  either  backwards  or  forwards,  for  it  is  equally  intelligible  either 
way  : indeed,  by  beginning  at  the  tail,  and  so  working  up  to  the  head, 
we  think  the  reader  will  stand  the  fairest  chance  of  getting  at  its  mean  • 
iug  : ‘ The  fire-baptized  soul,  long  so  scathed  and  thunder-riven,  here 
feels  its  own  freedom ; which  feeling  is  its  Baphometic  baptism : the 
citadel  of  its  whole  kingdom  it  has  thus  gained  by  assault,  and  will 
keep  inexpugnable  ; outwards  from  which  the  remaining  dominions,  not 
indeed  without  hard  battering,  will  doubtless  by  degrees  be  conquered 
and  pacificated.7  Here  is  a 77  . . . — Sun  Newspaper,  ls£  April,  1834. 

III.  North- American  Reviewer. 

...  11  After  a careful  survey  of  the  whole  ground,  our  belief  is  that 
no  such  persons  as  Professors  Teufelsdrockh  or  Counsellor  Heuschrecke 
ever  existed;  that  the  six  Paper-bags,  with  their  China-ink  inscriptions 
and  multifarious  contents,  are  a mere  figment  of  the  brain;  that  the 
‘ present  Editor 7 is  the  only  person  who  has  ever  written  upon  the  Phi- 
losophy of  Clothes ; and  that  the  Sartor  Besartus  is  the  only  treatise 
that  has  yet  appeared  upon  that  subject;  — in  short,  that  the  whole 
account  of  the  origin  of  the  work  before  us,  which  the  supposed  Editor 
relates  with  so  much  gravity,  and  of  which  we  have  given  a brief 
abstract,  is,  in  plain  English,  a hum. 


APPENDIX. 


228  * 

11  Without  troubling  our  readers  at  any  great  length  with  our  reasons 
for  entertaining  these  suspicions,  we  may  remark,  that  the  absence  of 
all  other  information  on  the  subject,  except  what  is  contained  in  the 
work,  is  itself  a fact  of  a most  significant  character.  The  whole  Ger- 
man press,  as  well  as  the  particular  one  where  the  work  purports  to 
have  been  printed,  seems  to  be  under  the  control  of  Stillschweigen  and 
Co.  — Silence  and  Company.  If  the  Clothes-Philosopby  and  its  author 
are  making  so  great  a sensation  throughout  Germany  as  is  pretended, 
how  happens  it  that  the  only  notice  we  have  of  the  fact  is  contained  in 
a few  numbers  of  a monthly  Magazine  published  at  London  ? How 
happens  it  that  no  intelligence  about  the  matter  has  come  out  directly  to 
this  country?  We  pique  ourselves  here  in  New  England  upon  know- 
ing at  least  as  much  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  literary  way  in  the  old 
Dutch  Mother-land  as  our  brethren  of  the  fast-anchored  Isle ; but  thus 
far  we  have  no  tidings  whatever  of  the  ‘ extensive  close-printed,  close- 
meditated  volume,’  which  forms  the  subject  of  this  pretended  commen- 
tary. Again,  we  would  respectfully  inquire  of  the  ‘ present  Editor  ’ 
upon  what  part  of  the  map  of  Germany  we  are  to  look  for  the  city  of 
Weissnichtwo  — 1 Know-not-where  ’ — at  which  place  the  work  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  printed,  and  the  Author  to  have  resided.  It  has 
been  our  fortune  to  visit  several  portions  of  the  German  territory,  and 
to  examine  pretty  carefully,  at  different  times  and  for  various  purposes, 
maps  of  the  whole ; but  we  have  no  recollection  of  any  such  place. 
We  suspect  that  the  city  of  Know-not-where  might  be  called,  with  at 
least  as  much  propriety,  Nobody -knows- where,  and  is  to  be  found  in  the 
kingdom  of  Nowhere.  Again,  the  village  of  Entepfuhl  — ‘ Duck-pond’ 
— where  the  supposed  Author  of  the  work  is  said  to  have  passed  his 
youth,  and  that  of  Hinterschlag,  where  he  had  his  education,  are  equally 
foreign  to  our  geography.  Duck-ponds  enough  there  undoubtedly  are 
in  almost  every  village  in  Germany,  as  the  traveller  in  that  country 
knows  too  well  to  his  cost,  but  any  particular  village  denominated  Duck- 
pond  is  to  us  altogether  terra  incognita.  The  names  of  the  personages 
arq  not  less  singular  than  those  of  the  places.  Who  can  refrain  from  a 
smile  at  the  yoking  together  of  such  a pair  of  appellatives  as  Diogenes 
Teufelsdrockh  ? The  supposed  bearer  of  this  strange  title  is  represented 
as  admitting,  in  his  pretended  autobiography,  that  ‘ he  had  searched  to 
no  purpose  through  all  the  Heralds’  books  in  and  without  the  German 
empire,  and  through  all  manner  of  Subscribers’-lists,  Militia-rolls,  and 
other  Name-catalogues,’  but  had  nowhere  been  able  to  find  1 the  name 
Teufelsdrockh,  except  as  appended  to  his  own  person.’  We  can  read- 
ily believe  this,  and  we  doubt  very  much  whether  any  Christian  parent 
would  think  of  condemning  a son  to  carry  through  life  the  burden  of  so 


APPENDIX. 


229 


unpleasant  a title.  That  of  Counsellor  Heuschrecke  — 1 Grasshopper 7 — 
though  not  offensive,  looks  much  more  like  a piece  of  fancy-work  than 
a i fair  business  transaction.7  The  same  may  be  said  of  Blumine  — 
i Flower-Goddess  ’ — the  heroine  of  the  fable ; and  so  of  the  rest. 

“In  short,  our  private  opinion  is,  as  we  have  remarked,  that  the 
whole  story  of  a correspondence  with  Germany,  a university  of  Nobody- 
knows-where,  a Professor  of  Things  in  General,  a Counsellor  Grass- 
hopper, a Flower- Goddess  Blumine,  and  so  forth,  has  about  as  much 
foundation  in  truth  as  the  late  entertaining  account  of  Sir  John  Her- 
schePs  discoveries  in  the  moon.  Fictions  of  this  kind  are,  however,  not 
uncommon,  and  ought  not,  perhaps,  to  be  condemned  with  too  much 
severity;  but  we  are  not  sure  that  we  can  exercise  the  same  indulgence 
in  regard  to  the  attempt,  which  seems  to  be  made  to  mislead  the  public 
as  to  the  substance  of  the  work  before  us,  and  its  pretended  German 
original.  Both  purport,  as  we  have  seen,  to  be  upon  the  subject  of 
Clothes,  or  dress.  Clothes , their  Origin  and  Influence,  is  the  title  of  the 
supposed  German  treatise  of  Professor  Teufelsdrockh,  and  the  rather 
odd  name  of  Sartor  Besartus  — the  Tailor  Patched  — which  the  present 
Editor  has  affixed  to  his  pretended  commentary,  seems  to  look  the  same 
way.  But  though  there  is  a good  deal  of  remark  throughout  the  work 
in  a half -serious,  half-comic  style  upon  dress,  it  seems  to  be  in  reality  a 
treatise  upon  the  great  science  of  Things  in  General,  which  Teufels- 
drockh is  supposed  to  have  professed  at  the  university  of  Nobody-knows- 
where.  Now,  without  intending  to  adopt  a too  rigid  standard  of  morals, 
we  own  that  we  doubt  a little  the  propriety  of  offering  to  the  public  a 
treatise  on  Things  in  General,  under  the  name  and  in  the  form  of  an 
Essay  on  Dress.  For  ourselves,  advanced  as  we  unfortunately  are  in 
the  journey  of  life,  far  beyond  the  period  when  dress  is  practically  a 
matter  of  interest,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  that  the  real  subject 
of  the  work  is  to  us  more  attractive  than  the  ostensible  one.  But  this 
is  probably  not  the  case  with  the  mass  of  readers.  To  the  younger 
portion  of  the  community,  which  constitutes  everywhere  the  very  great 
majority,  the  subject  of  dress  is  one  of  intense  and  paramount  impor- 
tance. An  author  who  treats  it  appeals,  like  the  poet,  to  the  young  men 
and  maidens  — virginibus  puerisque — and  calls  upon  them,  by  all  the 
motives  which  habitually  operate  most  strongly  upon  their  feelings,  to 
buy  his  book.  When,  after  opening  their  purses  for  this  purpose,  they 
have  carried  home  the  work  in  triumph,  expecting  to  find  in  it  some 
particular  instruction  in  regard  to  the  tying  of  their  neckcloths,  or  the 
cut  of  their  corsets,  and  meet  with  nothing  better  than  a dissertation  on 
Things  in  General,  they  will  — to  use  the  mildest  term  — not  be  in  very 
good  humor.  If  the  last  improvements  in  legislation,  which  we  have 


230 


APPENDIX. 


made  in  this  country,  should  have  found  their  way  to  England,  the  au- 
thor, we  think,  would  stand  some  chance  of  being  Lynched.  Whether 
his  object  in  this  piece  of  supercherie  be  merely  pecuniary  profit,  or 
whether  he  takes  a malicious  pleasure  in  quizzing  the  Dandies,  we  shall 
not  undertake  to  say.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  work,  he  devotes  a sepa- 
rate chapter  to  this  class  of  persons,  from  the  tenor  of  which  we  should 
be  disposed  to  conclude,  that  he  would  consider  any  mode  of  divesting 
them  of  their  property  very  much  in  the  nature  of  a spoiling  of  the 
Egyptians. 

u The  only  thing  about  the  work,  tending  to  prove  that  it  is  what  it 
purports  to  be,  a commentary  on  a real  German  treatise,  is  the  style, 
which  is  a sort  of  Babylonish  dialect,  not  destitute,  it  is  true,  of  richness, 
vigor,  and  at  times  a sort  of  singular  felicity  of  expression,  but  very 
strongly  tinged  throughout  with  the  peculiar  idiom  of  the  German  lan- 
guage. This  quality  in  the  style,  however,  may  be  a mere  result  of  a 
great  familiarity  with  German  literature ; and  we  cannot,  therefore,  look 
upon  it  as  in  itself  decisive,  still  less  as  outweighing  so  much  evidence 
of  an  opposite  character.”  — North- American  Review,  No.  89,  October, 
1835. 

IV.  New  England  Editors. 

i(  The  Editors  have  been  induced,  by  the  expressed  desire  of  many 
persons,  to  collect  the  following  sheets  out  of  the  ephemeral  pamphlets  1 
in  which  they  first  appeared,  under  the  conviction  that  they  contain  in 
themselves  the  assurance  of  a longer  date. 

u The  Editors  have  no  expectation  that  this  little  Work  will  have  a 
sudden  and  general  popularity.  They  will  not  undertake,  as  there  is  no 
need,  to  justify  the  gay  costume  in  which  the  Author  delights  to  dress 
his  thoughts,  or  the  German  idioms  with  which  he  has  sportively  sprin- 
kled his  pages.  It  is  his  humor  to  advance  the  gravest  speculations 
upon  the  gravest  topics  in  a quaint  and  burlesque  style.  If  his  mas- 
querade offend  any  of  his  audience,  to  that  degree  that  they  will  not  hear 
what  he  has  to  say,  it  may  chance  to  draw  others  to  listen  to  his  wis- 
dom ; and  what  work  of  imagination  can  hope  to  please  all  ? But  we 
will  venture  to  remark  that  the  distaste  excited  by  these  peculiarities  in 
some  readers  is  greatest  at  first,  and  is  soon  forgotten ; and  that  the 
foreign  dress  and  aspect  of  the  Work  are  quite  superficial,  and  cover 
a genuine  Saxon  heart.  We  believe,  no  book  has  been  published  for 
many  years,  written  in  a more  sincere  style  of  idiomatic  English,  or 
which  discovers  an  equal  mastery  over  all  the  riches  of  the  language. 
The  Author  makes  ample  amends  for  the  occasional  eccentricity  of  his 
1 Fraser’s  (London)  Magazine,  1833-34. 


APPENDIX. 


231 


genius,  not  only  by  frequent  bursts  of  pure  splendor,  but  by  the  wit  and 
sense  which  never  fail  him. 

a But  what  will  chiefly  commend  the  Book  to  the  discerning  reader  is 
the  manifest  design  of  the  work,  which  is,  a Criticism  upon  the  Spirit  of 
the  Age  — we  had  almost  said,  of  the  hour — in  which  we  live;  exhibit- 
ing in  the  most  just  and  novel  light  the  present  aspects  of  Religion,  Poli- 
tics, Literature,  Arts,  and  Social  Life.  Under  all  his  gayety  the  Writer 
has  an  earnest  meaning,  and  discovers  an  insight  into  the  manifold  wants 
and  tendencies  of  human  nature,  which  is  very  rare  among  our  popular 
authors.  The  philanthropy  and  the  purity  of  moral  sentiment,  which 
inspire  the  work,  will  find  their  way  to  the  heart  of  every  lover  of  vir- 
tue.”— Preface  to  Sartor  Besartus : Boston , 1835,  1837. 

Sunt,  Fuerunt  vel  Fuere, 


London,  30th  June,  1838. 


